


I Will Protect You

by orphan_account



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adultery, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Graphic Description, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Disability, Power Dynamics, Promiscuity, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 49,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herlaith was an heiress to the Silver-Blood family, but after a series of unavoidable and degrading scandals involving a string of lovers and the Forsworn, she was exiled from the Reach.  She finds herself to join the rebellion, when she runs into a group of Thalmor that were sent for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Met Her While I Tried To Kill Her

I was the light of my father’s eyes. His name was Thongvor Silver-Blood. He hated the Forsworn and hated the Elves. For my sixteenth birthday he bought me a sword. He was the _real_ owner of the Silver-blood family. My uncle Thonar and aunt Betrid looked after me most of the time. Father didn’t have time to deal with raising a daughter. He made it clear he wanted a son.

Even with my uncle and aunt watching me, they hardly ever actually saw me. Most of the time, I was 'running around' with whoever would tell me I was beautiful or charming. It wasn’t long until that tendency got me into trouble. After a scandal involving Ondolemar, a Thalmor agent, and myself, father was furious. He threatened to send me to Windhelm to join the Stormcloaks, something I had been adamantly against since the beginning. I said was, earlier, because he’s dead now.

After threatening me, I went to Ondolemar and planted evidence on my father, claiming that he worshipped Talos, and knew others who did. It was easy. All I had to do was compliment him, whisper in his ear, and tell him I, too, believed Altmer were superior and he had my father hauled off to the Embassy for questioning, as quickly as it took to get him out of his robes.

The next problem, was a priestess of Dibella, Senna. I had run off with her in the middle of the night, escaping that damnable city. It turned out that gorgeous Breton was Forsworn. So, I did the exact opposite of what my dearest father would have wanted. I joined the Forsworn. It was fun, for the first few months, exhilarating. There was blood in my hands and in my hair, and I had more sex than I ever had in my entire life. I stood with Senna, holding hands and screaming out over the entire Reach, from the highest point we could reach. We screamed and ran and fucked and killed. After the fourth month, Ondolemar had sent thugs to bring me back, and they did just that.

After being embarrassingly outed about the subject to my Aunt and Uncle, I was sent to Cidhna Mine. Against their plans, I was greeted as a hero by my fellow Forsworn and helped them break out. After all that, my name was cleared. My family payed people to turn a blind eye to me and eventually people forgot. I was 20 at the time.

Over the next six years, I ran Markarth. My Aunt had died in a Forsworn attack. My Uncle was killed by someone in the Dark Brotherhood, mysteriously. _Conveniently,_ that left me running everything. I was not prepared to do that at all, but with the help of Yngvar the Singer, my father’s grumpy housecarl, I managed. Often though, he tried to replace my father, instructing me on who and what I should do. He was sick too, despite trying to control me like a parent, we often had sex. He always called me 'his little girl.'

The next lover I took that caused problems for the city was a man named Argis. He was the housecarl to some Dunmer woman who was never actually around, making staying with him all the more easy.

Soon enough though, the Jarl got tired of me. He sent assassins. He sent them to their death. He sent thugs, who met the same fate. Argis protected me, even against his Jarl’s wishes. Eventually, the Jarl simply exiled me, leaving me on the road to Solitude. I wanted to rejoin the Forsworn, but they were almost completely wiped out. I knew their end was coming, so I did the next best thing.

I slept with a man named Sorex Vinius, who in return, let me stay at The Winking Skeever. However, I hadn’t seen he thought the arrangement was romantic. He bugged me constantly with asking me to marry him. He kicked me out too, sending me out on the road for a second time.

At this point, I gave up, thinking my father was right about _one_ thing. I was headed to join the rebellion. Until I saw a group of Thalmor. Due to Ondolemar’s newfound hatred of me for using him, I tended to avoid the bunch, thusly, I did my best to hide.

“You there!” I heard one of the guards yell. “Stop!”

Not in a million years. I turned and ran, only to be shocked, quite literally. I fell to the ground, grasping for my sword. I cut down both guards when the wizard threw a fireball at me.

“Damn you! I did nothing wrong!” I screamed, holding my burnt flesh. All I had was leather armor, and that did nearly nothing against the spell’s searing effect. It felt like my organs were going to fall out, she melted my flesh down so lowly.

“You have been marked a heretic!” She screamed back, holding her spell back.

“I am no such thing! Ondolemar’s just mad because I wouldn’t stay with him!” I yelled, finding my voice faltering with pent up emotions.

She seemed to pause before throwing another spell at me, ice, this time. It went through my thigh, freezing the bone it found. I fell to the ground, looking up. She approached me slowly. I reached into a latched pocket, pulling out a razor. I pulled it to my lips, whispering a spell over it.

She stood in front of me.

“D-Do you surrender?” She said, obviously frightened. I simply stared up, for a moment. Even the wildlife around us had become silent. I moved quickly, slashing her hand open with the newly enchanted razor. It stuck in her hand. She screamed and pulled her hand back, trying her best to heal herself, but finding no way to tap into her magicka. I smirked.

“What--What did you do?!” She hissed, pulling a dagger with her other hand. I threw my sword at her, causing her to dodge, but not quite enough. It sliced through her shoulder instead of her head.

“I cut off your stupid magicka, elf.” I hissed, remembering the one spell my father taught me, in case I found myself against the Thalmor. He was a paranoid man.

She screamed and fell to her knees as well, pulling the blade from her shoulder and hyperventilating. I crawled towards her as she collapsed onto her back. I drew her dagger from her and hovered over her, holding the dagger in a vice grip with my numbed fingers. She opened her eyes and looked up at me. I pulled it back and watched her flinch.

“Damn you, Altmer cunt.” I spat and fell next to her, dropping the dagger. I rolled over on my back and stared up at the sky.

“Nord whore.” She hissed, turning her head to look at me. I glanced over then turned mine as well. We stayed like that for a minute. “My name is Niren.”

“You know mine. Yours is prettier though…” I stared, looking over her features. “You know, it fits you. Suits your face. Elegant.” I sighed again and rolled over on my belly, propping myself up on my elbows and looking down at her. Had we not both been bleeding out, I would have had her swooning. I could see a shadow of it in her eyes.

“You… aren’t _as_ awful as most Nords.”

“You know what would be really fucking stupid?” I asked, watching her features reflect confusion.

“...What?” She humored me.

“If both of us died.” I said and laid a hand on the wound I made. “Now, you have to make me a promise.”

“Ow!--what--what do you want? _What are you doing?_ ”

“I want you to leave the Thalmor. For your own good. From what Ondolemar told me, they won’t be any good for you. Climbing those corrupt and lazy ranks won’t help you any.” I stared at the wound before a white light encircled it. I felt as my arm gave out and collapsed on her, but managed to mostly heal her wounds. I screamed, feeling the wound that I gave her, engrave itself on my own shoulder.

She panicked then looked at her shoulder. She shot me a look.

“You--you can’t be serious… You bullheaded Nord!” She screamed, standing up. At least, that’s what I thought I heard. At that point I was slipping in and out of consciousness.

The next thing I remember was hearing the distinctly low voice of Ulfric Stormcloak. I opened my eyes to find the beautiful Thalmor girl still held me in her arms, but she was on her knees, begging. I couldn’t quite understand what anyone was saying, but recognized the fact I was taken to the court wizard and healed.

“Well,” He said, nonchalantly. “You aren’t going to be able to properly digest anything for a while, without drinking a sip of this potion first, and you shouldn’t walk much. Luckily for you, I had a device made for you, it should allow you to be mobile, even without your legs. You’ll get those back in about a year, I’d estimate.” The old man boasted. I thanked him. “Now, I believe Galmar has _questions for you_. Here, I’ll help you in your chair.” He grabbed my back and hand, assisting the transfer from his bed to the chair. He strapped my legs into it and showed me how to use it. I sighed, feeling embarrassment and shame from having the large device, but thanked him nonetheless.

For a moment, I considered repeating the pass, flirting with the wizard to get what I want. I had never been much on looks as much as I was about what my partners could give me. However, Wuunferth was an absorbed man, just like Calcemo had been, so I quickly stifled that idea.

I wheeled myself down the slope that led towards the main hall, then to a war room. Large hands grabbed both of the wheels and stopped me abruptly, I looked up, glaring, inches from the bear of man’s face.

“Tell me about the Thalmor, and why she brought you in here.” He said, still holding on.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s in the dungeon. Tell me, and you can go see her, or kill her.” He mulled over something in his mind.

“I was on my way here… to join the rebellion… Group of Thalmor were sent to me to take me prisoner, probably back to Ondolemar or to the Embassy…” I rolled me eyes, remembring the jealous lover. “I almost killed her, but decided it’d be dumb if we both died, so I healed her. I honestly didn’t expect her to bring me here or try to save me. She promised to relinquish the Thalmor.”

“Same story then… Fine, fine.” He let go of my chair and stepped back, eyeing me. “You wanted to join, huh?” He laughed. “Not like that.”

“Well, I wasn’t like this on the way here.” I cocked my head, giving him the bitchiest face I could manage. “Obviously I can’t go anywhere _now.”_

“Ah yes, onto the second matter. You’ll stay here.”

“Don’t have much of a choice, now, do I?” I laughed at his sorry excuse for a charming smile.

“Well, no.” He rolled his eyes. “Where do you want to stay? A room or the dungeon? Your choice.”

I paused, tilting my head. My hair fell from my shoulder. I stared for a moment.

“Are you threatening me, Galmar _sweetest_?”

“Am I, Silver-Blood?”

“Ha! That’s fucking gold! You’re threatening me because of my father!” I slammed my hand against the table my chair was next to.

“He was an honorable man!”

“He was a _racist!_ ”

“He addressed the twisted politics of Markarth _flawlessly_.” Galmar said, turning his nose up.

“My father created a system of slavery, using Forsworn who had never committed crimes in the city as means of labor!”

“And what did _you_ do?”

“I-I... “ I had done nothing to stop it.

“Exactly. Now make your choice. Dungeon, or a bedroom.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference? The dungeon, you get nothing and give nothing. The bedroom? You join the ranks when you recover, and get treated like a person.”

“Free the Altmer girl and we have a deal, _moreover,_ you have a Silver-Blood.”

“I can’t... “ He paused after hearing the last fragment. “Fine. But both she, and you, stay here, under constant watch, until you heal.”

“Fine. So be it. Take me to her, then my room.” I grinned, satisfied at the arrangement.

He had a guard wheel me down to the dungeon. Danm bear couldn’t even do it himself.

“By the Nine…” I whispered, nearly jumping out of my chair at the sight of Niren. “What did you do to her?!” I shot my head back, thrashing at the guard who jumped back. I wheeled myself over to her. She was crumpled up in the corner, naked and crying.

“ _Please._. no more…” She whimpered without looking up.

“Get her out of there! **Now!** ” I yelled, grabbing the guard and throwing him towards the cell. He unlocked it, grumbling something. I wheeled myself in, leaning over to somehow snap Niren out of her trance.

“Please! Please! Stop!--Herlaith?” She nearly whispered the last word.

“Yes, it’s me, come on.” I managed to pull my shirt off and hand it to her. “I won’t let that happen again. I promise.”

She tugged the shirt on, pulling it past her butt and following closely to the chair as the guard led us to a room. It wasn’t as nice as the one I had in Markarth, but much better than a dungeon cell. She stayed close, holding my hand the entire time. The guard left us and I slammed the door shut, locking it.

“What did they do… did they rape you?” I looked up at her, gripping her shaking hand. “Gods, they haven’t fed you… how long was I out?” I shook my head and pointed to the food on the table. “Please eat.”

“I-I’m sorry.” She trembled but quickly ran to the food, eating as quickly as she could. I wheeled myself to the bed and unstrapped my legs, struggling to crawl into the bed.

“Not your fault… this group is racist. Even if you aren’t with the Thalmor anymore, that damned Jarl won’t let it go.” I said, examining my legs.

“Oh… can I sleep with you? I d-don’t like sleeping on the floor.” She shivered. She mumbled: “I think it would be nice to sleep next to someone who cares…”

“Of course.” I looked up at her confused. “There should be some clothes in the dresser over there. If not, I’ll call for the guards to bring you some.” She nodded and ran over to the dresser. She pulled on a dress that was barely long enough to reach her calves. I scooted over to leave her more than enough room and patted the bed. “Did they…?”

“Yes.” She laid down next to me, curling up under the blankets and staring at me.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” I offered. I knew it wouldn’t make it any better, but she deserved to know not all Nords were disgusting.

“I don’t blame you. I never thanked you for saving my life.” She said, grabbing my hand.

“I… you don’t have to. I did it because I … I don’t know. Don’t worry about it. It’s you and me, though. Until these stupid things heal. Then I promise, I’ll find you somewhere safe…”

“No where is safe now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the Thalmor are going to want to kill me now, as well as the Stormcloaks and the Imperials are the Thalmor’s puppets. Ulfric was correct about that.” I watched her words leave her mouth.

“What can I do then?”

“I should stay with you, or join the rebellion, if they let me.”

“Stay with me.” I rolled over onto my side, despite the pain that rose from this. She averted her eyes. I squeezed her hand and she looked back at me. “Look, I don’t know you very well, but we can make it out alive if we pretend to be lovers. The Stormcloaks are racist, not heartless, similar as they may seem.”

“...Okay.” She looked away again, face reddening a bit.

“Sorry about the sword.” I said with a quiet laugh.

“Sorry for kicking your ass.” She smirked. By the Nine, was that sexy.

“When I get my legs back, I’ll show you who kicked who’s ass.” I jested, poking her in the chest; a feeble and childish attempt to intimedate her.

“I am terrified, cripple.” She said, turning over on her other side. I laced an arm around her waist and pulled her against me. She was much taller than I was, so I ended up with my nose between her shoulderblades. “Excuse you.” She said. I momentarily panicked, remembering her recent treatment, and feared I had brought back some horrible memory via sensation. Then she giggled. I grunted and pulled her tighter to me. I could just hear her roll her eyes. “Nords.”

“Elves.” I said back, kissing her back.

“Stop that! It tickles..”

“Uh-huh.” I smirked, nuzzling her back again and holding her down, despite her squirming. “I’ll bet it does, sweetheart.”

She had the advantage of height, but I had the natural advantage of strength.

 

  



	2. Golden Blood

Even with my bum legs, I was practically an expert on leaving a not-so-empty-bed silently. I managed to get in my chair without waking Niren. Thankfully, she’d slept all through the night, though I, did not. Pain in my thigh kept me awake. That cute bitch really did a number on me, and my masochistic-heroic healing session hadn’t exactly helped either. 

That spell was one I got Aicantar to teach me. He’d been reluctant too, saying it was too dangerous for a non-mage to learn. I hadn’t used it before then. I really wish I would have taken his advice and learned a regular healing spell instead of that Oblivion-Opening Level Bull Shit. I was still exhausted from that spell. But Niren was healthy, albeit traumatized beyond belief, but physically safe from death.

“You’re awake…” She murmured, grabbing hold of my chair. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “You kept leaving bed last night. You okay?”

“Yeah… Had to shit.” I plucked her hand off the arm of the chair. “Go back to sleep. You need it.”

“Charming…” She muttered in her groggy state. She rolled over and sprawled out of the newly open and warm bed. She snuggled into it. Gods, almost everything that damn elf did was endearing. If she hadn’t been so… obviously oblivious to everything, I’d think she was trying to seduce or play with me. I hadn't noticed it before, but she was almost the perfect specimen of Altmer, even rivalling Ondolamer's claim of being a perfect example. The only thing that kept her from that was her charcoal black hair. I suspected that somewhere in her family's history, someone had a little not-so-gold-skin sex partner. Not that I was complaining. Despite never seeing an Altmer with black hair, it certainly suited her. 

I wheeled myself out of the room and down to the kitchens, where the grumpy chef regarded me with a heavy sigh.

“I don’t like Silver-Bloods in my kitchen.” He said grabbing a tray of food for two. “Get _out_.”

“Okay, okay.” I put my hands up defensively and took the plate, nodding a thanks before setting it in my lap and wheeling myself out. I was going to have to run for years to regain the muscle I was losing in my legs. Usually, I'd argue with anyone who was remotely rude to me, but this poor man _obviously_ met my father. No changing his opinion now.

It was really beginning to bug me; having to use this chair. I didn’t see how anyone did it. I ended up calling a guard to carry the tray so it didn’t spill everywhere.

“Hey.. are you going to share the prisoner?” The guard leaned down and whispered. I stopped, a few meters from the door. “What?”

I stared for a moment.

“Put the tray on the ground. _Right now.”_

He did as I ordered, eyeing my cautiously. I grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him face first into the wall, using my chair as leverage and arm strength. I practically ripped off his helmet and shoved him into the wall again, and again, and again, until another guard stopped me. The wall was freshly red. 

“If you ever talk about my lover like that again, I’ll fucking kill you!” I yelled at the man who was in stunned tears. Niren evidently heard because she opened the door. Then again, how couldn’t she? I’d been ramming this guy’s bloodied head into the wall of our bedroom. Stone could only conceal so much noise. She looked at him then me and the other guard. “Get the food, love.” I nodded towards it and said gently.

She grabbed it and ran back in the room, avoiding the guard like a plague. Rightfully so.

“By the Nine--you almost killed him!” The female guard yelled, pulling her sword. My hand deftly grabbed my own.

“Damn. What a shame.” I narrowed my eyes. She wouldn’t attack me, but I would be damned if she changed her mind and took me by surprise. “Get that shit eater out of my sight.” She picked up her friend and carried him off.

“Your lover, huh?” _Galmar. I evidently had a new enemy._

“Yeah, what of it?” I put my sword away and glanced over my shoulder. “What’s it matter to you? Jealous. You _ought_ to be.” I winked playfully.

“You tried to kill her--she almost killed you.”

“And yet neither of us are dead.” I shot back, turning my device around to face him. I wish I could stand, so I could at least be near the level of this man.

“Fair point. Don’t try to kill any more of my guards. I’ll send both of you to the dungeon.” He looked me up and down. His scrutiny had me more than pinned to my chair. I felt the sensation of anger I had when my father threatened me. This man--this beast was threatening me, _and not with a trip to the dungeon._ But for all his bravado to voice himself, he kept this one silent. If I hadn’t actually been frightened, I would have sent him a death threat in a glare right back.

I wheeled myself into the room, tossing my long hair over my shoulder as some sort of unspoken retaliation to the man. In the world of politics I grew up in, dismissals via feminine charm, I learned, got men and women off their high horses quicker than any actual words or promises. After I shut the door, my chin lowered and I let out the shakey breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding. Niren stared at me with concern. I looked down at my hands. Red streaked them.

I stared in silence. I looked back at her then wheeled myself to a narrow but long window, staring out of the glass barrier just in time to see the guards of the palace’s courtyard change shifts.

“This place is a fortress.” I noted outloud, hoping Niren would say something comforting, because she just had that air about her. “I feel like an insect on an alchemist’s table.”

“You are an insect on an alchemist’s table.” She said quietly, approaching and laying a hand on my shoulder. “You’re a spider, love, _poisonous._ ” Her voice was so low that it rivalled a whisper. I looked back at her, a bit surprised. She looked down at me. Her pitch black hair teased the exposed skin on my cheek as she leaned down to plant a kiss there. Her sharp, golden eyes reflected some sort of secret. “I may be a butterfly or torchbug, but together we can lure them into your web.” I stared for a moment, taken aback. My arrogance and cockiness died in my throat and I had no snarky comment or sex-lined joke. Instead, I smiled and looked back down to the court yard.

“You’re right.” 

 


	3. Father Dearest

“Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak has summoned you, Herlaith Silver-Blood. You should be honored.” A guard opened the door without knocking. I glanced up from the table. I was bent over a piece of parchment and looked over at the guard.

“Very well.” I rolled my eyes(a common sensation, due to my overall snark) and wiped my charcoal stained hands off on a cloth of linen. Niren was taking a nap. Thankfully, the rude guard hadn’t startled her awake.

“Now.”

I simply shot him a look before wheeling myself over to Niren. I nudged her awake ever so gently.

“I’ll be back, love.”

“Nnnn.” She sat up immediately. “No.” Niren’s voice was firm. She stood up and gripped the edges of my chair. “I go with you.”

“That’s fine with me.” I smiled. “You roll me, then.” With that, the guard led us out of our cozy bedroom. I noted Niren’s shaking hands as she wheeled me down to the palace’s most eccentric yet empty room. I had to admit, wrong as Ulfric was when it came to mentality, he hadn’t been nearly as greedy as the Imperials were.

“You summoned me.” I might be his prisoner of sorts, but I would have the first word, even if it got me killed.

“I did.” He noted. He wasn’t much of a talker, but he spared no words in a conversation.

“Why? I have done nothing wrong. The guard threatened--” Rude bastard that Galmar was, Ulfric seemed more keen to cut me off.

“This is not about the guard.” He nearly hissed. “It’s about your father.”

“Ah…” Well, _that_ shut me up. Past finally came back to bite me in the ass. At least it wasn't Madanach or Borkul. Those two still despised me for betraying the Forsworn. I feared the first more than the latter. 

“He’s been located.” Ulfric said, eyeing Niren. Instinctively, my hand met hers and gripped it. His eyes averted back to mine. I held them there with the glare of a menace. Windhelm was much more predatory than Markarth ever was, but the City of Stone raised me like a wolf. “In the Thalmor Embassy.” He finished, almost startled at my newfound disposition.

“I see. I presume you know what he’s there for.”

“I know who put him there, too. Your former lover, Ondolemar.” Shit. I was an expert at lying, but my face betrayed me in that moment. I was visibly paler--even for a Nord. “I know all about that business, Herlaith.” He said calmly.

“I did not frame him for anything! Both he and I adamantly worshipped Talos! Ondolemar framed me for that!” I felt my blood chill yet reverently stream through my veins. “Ondolemar was corrupt! The only reason I wasn’t hunted by the Thalmor sooner--was because he mistook our occasional romp for that of love!” I did my best to lie. While I had always thought of Talos as a Divine, I had never worshipped any of them, besides Dibella, of course.

“I know.” He bought it. My heart stopped hammering painfully for a moment. “I just thought to let you know.” He shook his head for a second. He eyed me. “You’re dismissed. Your _pet_ Thalmor as well.”

I opened my mouth to protest but Niren was pushing me, rather quickly back to our room. After hauling ass inside the bedroom and shutting the door she collapsed to her knees. I turned the chair around and looked down at her.

“I’m going to die in here…” She murmured. She had her face buried in her hands and the golden beauty before me was trembling. “He’s gonna kill me.”

I set my hand on her shoulder. I racked my brain for something to say--anything--to make her stop crying. _Actions though,_ every child in Tamriel was taught, _spoke louder than words._ I leaned down despite the pain arising in my midsection and managed to pick her up, mostly thanks to my even lower centre of gravity. I pulled her into my lap, holding her bridal style. I could feel her shudder and curl up against me. Her face was buried into my hair. I held her there for a moment. She had wrapped her thin arms around me and was clinging for dear life. I kissed her hair and ran my hand over the alluring length of it, comfortingly.

“I’ll jump into Oblivion before I let that happen.” I said. It didn’t seem to help at first, but then I felt her relax in my arms. She let out a mock sort of laugh.

“I never thought I’d be seeking refuge in the arms of a Nord.” She looked at me, staring deeply at me. I used my hand that was supporting her to brush hair out of her face. I ran my hand over her cheek.

“I never thought I’d be so trapped by good looks.” I tried to immediately bite the words back, but the truth always comes out in the end. She stared at me for a moment. Both of our faces were reddening. This discoloration on her gold skin only made her more endearing, and some distant part of me screamed to throw her on the bed and make her blush more. I certainly didn't need my legs for that. 

“You.. don’t find me ugly?” She looked like she was about to be struck, cringing so much inwardly that it surfaced and made itself visible in her eyes. I furrowed my brow.

“The fuck do you mean?”

“Oh come on, you can’t say that!” She stood up, defensively drawing away from me. “You’re the perfect example of a Nord! Blond hair! Blue Eyes! Pale as snow--and don’t get me started on the rest of you! Dibella practically crafted you herself!” She was blushing and crying all at once. “I’m a half-bred mutt!” She yelled, shoulders squaring for combat but arms drawing themselves into herself. She covered her chest.

“You… what? What does that matter?”

“I’m the ugliest Altmer the Thalmor ever had! Not even Bosmer looked onto me with desire! So don’t you even try to tell me that I’m attractive!”

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious.” My Nordic accent rivalled her Elvish one. “Do you really believe that those twisted bastards would recognize true beauty when they saw it?”

“I--... I don’t…” She looked down at the floor.

“Niren, even when I was trying to kill you--you had me wrapped around that lithe finger. You say Dibella made me--but _Mara_ made you. You’re the most beautiful elf I’d ever seen. Sexy, even.”

“That’s a lie! _Please_ \--stop lying to me!” She covered her eyes again.

“Why, in all of Tamriel, do you think I would lie to you?” I tried my best to sound stern, but her own wretched crying was making the lump in my chest, I still excused as a heart, hurt.

“I don’t know…” Niren stood up, sitting in the chair next to the table. “...Let me watch you draw.” I just smiled and wheeled myself over to the table. I looked down at the sabrecat on the paper. It stood on the tip of the mountain, posed and ready to strike.


	4. Galmar

 

“Wake up, dear.” I said gently, but loud enough to be heard. I noticed Niren’s increased amount of sleeping, but dismissed it. There wasn’t much to do around here and sleeping would at least mean she wasn’t crying. I was brushing out my hair, almost regretfully. It fell to the small of my back. As a girl who stayed in someone’s bed, it was perfect, but for a warrior in a wheelchair, it was only an inconvenience, yet for the life of me I couldn’t cut it.

“Sorry… didn’t realize I was asleep.” She slurred, stretching out. I briefly wondered if she felt the ceiling when she did that.

“It’s fine, but I have to go by Wuunferth’s room.”

“Ah, the court wizard.” She said, uneasily.

“Yes…is that okay? You don’t have to go with me--”

“Please.. don’t leave me in this room.”  She said so quickly I thought I hadn’t heard her right. But of course I did. After what happened, and the prying and scorning eyes of guards and royalty alike, I wouldn’t want to be without a Nord either, if I was an elf.

“I won’t.” I kissed her hand and let her push me out of the door. We had shared small affections like that over the past week, but nothing more than that, surprisingly, even if we held each other. I could sense she was nervous so I stilled my hands.

“Ah! There you are--just in time. Drink this.” I had a potion shoved in my face as soon as entered. I grabbed it and stared before following his instructions--”Shit! What is in this?” I coughed, not realizing how bad it was going to taste. “Sorry--thanks, Wuunferth.” I tried my best not to piss of the one man in here who didn’t treat Niren like shit and didn’t eye me like I was food. It seemed that even Galmar knew my reputation.

“No worries--trust me, that might have been the most disgusting thing I’ve ever concocted.” He laughed. It seemed I was boosting his ego and withering his grumpiness away, with the sheer fact he was managing to heal me.

“I wholeheartedly agree.” I said earnestly. I heard Niren giggle quietly. That made me smile.

“Good news, you should be out of that thing on time! Bad news…” Wuunferth seemed to grow nervous. He tugged his hood down and ran an age-whittled hand through his hair. “Bad news is that I have to replace the bone completely.” I stared for a moment. Niren was shaking a bit, holding onto my shoulder. I could feel her practically leak with guilt. I patted her hand reassuringly.

“And how do you plan to do that?” I really, really shouldn’t have asked, considering I knew the answer. I heard rumors before from Aicantar when he would mumble things about restoration being more bloody than he thought.

“Gotta cut you open.” He smiled, trying not to look nervous.

“Ah… Well, nothing to lose, right?”

“Not now, later--much later. I’m trying to… figure out how I will keep you from bleeding out.”

“Right.” Thank the Eight-Nine--Shit, Ten for all I care, that I was sitting down. I felt dizzy.

“In the mean time, Niren, I want you to drink this. A child won’t be good for you. Your hips aren’t nearly wide enough to bear and I don’t think you want one, exactly.” Wuunferth fumbled with a potion before handing it to her, reluctantly. She took it and thanked him. I looked up at her with wide eyes. Well, it definitely wasn’t mine, but I would have to find out who--and skin--whoever did that. “It’s going to hurt, so you should… stay in bed for a while.”

Niren nodded, holding onto my chair and wheeling me back to the room. I had never been the jealous type--especially over someone I was only pretending to be lovers with--but for some fucking reason--I was more angry than when Ulfric looked at her--how dare these fucking guards! Then something hit me.

“Shit…” I said out loud. My heart started to hammer. “Shit!” I slammed my hand on the arm of my chair. “Shit!” I yelled again, rolling myself over to the window and flinging it open. My temper was affecting my temperature. I let the cold morning air strike me and chill my skin.

“...Herlaith?” Niren said, barely audibly. I took a deep breath, realizing I had scared her. She shut the door quietly, afraid to approach. “Are… are you okay?” I could hear her voice shake.

“This place is gonna make me crazy.” I said again, striking the stone wall, as if it’d wronged me before taking another deep breath. “Do what Wuunferth said. He’s right. Dangerously so.” Niren stared then looked at the potion.

“Right…” She sat down on the bed and hesitantly downed it. Niren watched me as I wheeled myself over to her. I sat my hand on her arm delicately. “Herlaith..”

I pushed myself out of my chair and into the bed, sitting up against the headboard and patting my lap. She smiled a little and curled up against me, laying her head on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, completely enveloping her. She was tall, but tiny all the same. Wuunferth was right, her hips were tiny, just like her entire frame. She held her stomach, groaning. I cringed and rubbed her back.

“I’m here..” I whispered against the top of her head as I felt her tremble again, shaken with painful tears. I tightened my grip on her, just enough to reassure her. “I’ll stay here until you feel better.”

“Stay here afterwards.” She said through her tears, gripping my shirt and looking up at me. She planted an unsure kiss on my lips. I was too stunned to do anything for a moment, but set my free hand on her cheek, brushing my thumb over her cheek and kissing her back, gently, afraid that one wrong move would cause her pain. She pulled back first, burying herself against me again. I just stared at the space above both of us and did my best to comfort her.

After what was a prompt five hours of that, the acidic pain in her lower abdomen subsided enough for her to lay down and fall asleep. I stayed there, just as she requested, watching her sleep.

I stared at the window, stroking her hair until I too, fell asleep. I awoke up to an empty bed and no chair in sight. I panicked, looking around.

“Niren?” I yelled, feeling my heart speed up. I looked down at my legs then again for my chair. “Niren!” I yelled again, rolling out of the bed and pulling myself to the door. I grabbed the guard outside of our room by his leg. He looked down, startled. I looked up with the ferocity of a wolf. “Where is Niren? Where is she?! What did you do?!”

“Stop worrying. Galmar has her! He’s interrogating her--” The guard was cut off by his own shock. I gripped the door and pulled herself up and used him as leverage. My legs were limp and provided no support. I put no weight on them, just stared, fuming.

“Where... “ I took a deep breath, as to not start attempting to kill this one like the last one. “The fuck…” I took another deep breath. My blood was boiling--my fingers were itching to put my sword in his eye. “Is my chair?”

“He took it--”

Fuck this. Fuck him--fuck that guard--FUCK Galmar.

I dropped to the floor and started dragging my legs behind me like a fucking draugar--and twice as pissed.

“Stop!” The guard called, but stayed in place. I reached up with one arm to give him a gesture of how pleased I was with him. Then proceeded to quickly pull myself down the ramp.

“Tell us where Thonar is! You know where he is--I found his and Herlaith’s dossier in your robes when you came in!” I heard Galmar’s gruff voice yell.

“I can’t tell you--they’ll--” Niren was pleading when her eyes met mine. Galmar turned around and glared down at me. He said nothing at first, but stayed in place. I dared to break eyecontact and looked at his hand. He held a hammer. I glanced at Niren again and noticed bloody bruises littering her arm and shoulders. My rage returned.

“You…” I said through gritted teeth. “You put that down.” I looked up at him as he approached me. The dark of night seeped through a frosted window. The wall sconces flickered their light.

“You can’t do anything.” Ha! What a fucking riot. I was just as much--no--more of a Nord than he was. I reached up and grabbed a table’s edge. I glanced at a man who was standing behind Niren--one I hadn’t noticed before. Yrsarald Thrice-Racist. I remember him from taking to Windhelm with my father. He was one I had planned to seduce--to get away from my father, but found him too… vocal. Worse than Ondolemar. Even in bed. He recognized me and looked down at Niren. I forced myself to look back at Galmar.

I pushed myself up and stood. That’s right--I fucking stood. Galmar was quite shocked, and I fucking revelled in it. I grabbed my sword.

“Since you’re a fucking brute, I’ll speak your language. Fight me for her.” I watched him for a moment. His eyes were prying again. I struck the floor with my sword, causing sparks to rise. That caught his attention and he almost jumped back.

“Fine. This won’t last long. You might be able to stand--but you’re weak.” He smirked, pulling his warhammer off of his back. I noted an irony with his choice of interrogation tool, in the back of mind until I took another look at Niren. I noticed there was a nail in her shoulder. Fuck no.

I struck first, stumbling and gagging from the pain that arose from my leg with the broken femur--wondering--how the fuck I was standing. I screamed--not in pain, and certainly not in fear. I screamed the same way I had when I was with the Forsworn--and he noticed. I jumped at him, causing him to block me and stumble back. I began to feel light headed.

He growled and made a downward swing with his weapon. I moved, knowing that trying to block would break my arms. I felt tears stinging my eyes, knowing I didn’t have much longer before Adrenaline dropped me back on the ground and left me.

I swung rapidly, giving him no chance to dodge, I advanced, giving him no where to go, until I had his back against the wall. He winced and I drove my sword at him--just stopping when I felt it meet his skin. It was at his sternum. There was blood on the tip but that was it. He noticed me falter and threw me on the ground.

“Wait--I fucking spared you--I won! Where is your honor?!” I screamed before rolling just in time to not get smashed by a hammer.

“Fighting a whore like you?” He spat. “I don’t need honor.”  He swung again and again I rolled to dodge. My legs were screaming, every nerve in my body was weak and hurt.

“Stop! I won! I had you at sword point!” I swung it, deflecting his next swing. He jumped back, in time to not have his intestines spilled.

“Galmar, enough.” Yrsarald said sternly. “She’s right, you’re letting your temper get to her.”

Niren was crying, staring over at me. I looked at her and her shoulder and Yrsarald and Galmar.

“Do you even know why I was interrogating her?” Galmar spat and picked me up by my arms.

“Because you’re a piece racist shit and can’t accept the fact she forsook the Thalmor to save the life of a Nord? And is better than you in every way?”

“Herlaith.. don’t provoke him..” Niren said weakly.

“She knows how to get your father out of the Embassy.” Galmar said, inches from my face again. He wreaked of mead. I scowled at him.

“What makes you think that?”

“You can’t be serious… She was a wizard--she must be the daughter of a high ranked Thalmor.”

“I… don’t know anything about the Embassy though.. I haven’t been there in… years…” Her voice died under his gaze.

“You heard her. Let her go, Galmar. I won.” I said harshly, grabbing his hands. He dropped me but removed Niren’s restraints. I hit the ground hard enough to bruise and felt my legs crumple beneath me. Niren ran over to me, sitting me up and trying to shake me from the pain-induced trance I fell into.

“Get her to Wuunferth.” Galmar said, kicking Niren to move. Niren looked around for my chair but somehow--I will never know how, picked me up instead, carrying me on her back to the mage’s quarters. She was heaving and crying still. I tried to speak, but my legs had all of my attention.

“By the Nine, what happened? Where’s her chair?” HE questioned harshly. “What happened to you, Niren?”

I could hear her open her mouth to say something but shut it and lay me on the bed.

“Shit.” The mage cursed, looking down at me, more obviously, my legs. 


	5. The Plane Of Oblivion Called Understone Keep

"Shhh, my dear, don't fret--it's okay--shhh." I woke up with a jolt. I tried to sit up but Niren tried to hold me down. My vision was a blurred fog. I screamed.

"Get someone who can hold her down!" Wuunferth yelled, thrusting a scrap of leather in my mouth to stop me from biting my tongue off. "Hurry!" He hissed and I heard Niren's tiny footsteps run away, quicker than a mouse. 

"You think I'm gonna help  _her! Get your filthy elf hands off of me!_ " I heard yelling, momentarily recognizing it as Galmar before pain drove my attention back to my legs. I looked down towards them, spots littering my eyes. "Don't look--" I threw the curtain back that separated me from seeing my legs. "Damnit Herlaith!" 

The picture was so vividly horrid that for the first time in my life I couldn't breathe--fear gripped me so tightly. 

"What are you doing?!" I screamed, beginning to hyperventilate. I sat up and grabbed my thigh. "Why! Why are you doing this?!" I yelled and shot a look over to Wuunferth just before my shoulders were grabbed and forced back against the table I was laid on. Galmar stood over me, holding me down against my thrashing.

"I'm saving your life! After your little fit, your legs developed Steel Blister."

_Steel Blister._ At the moment, all I could think about was Winterhold. I saw my first case of it there. It was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen--and mind you, I went to Cidhna Mine and escaped. I met a Hagraven. I killed with the Forsworn. But by Namira, Steel Blistering was the ugliest disease to grace Skyrim with its presence. Steel Blister is an infection and a disease at the same time. It gets its named one of two ways. One way that is easy to contract it is to get cut with rusty steel--or steel with other people's infected blood on it. Another reason it's referred to as Steel Blister, is because it's almost immediate. As quick as your blood runs--and in heated combat, quicker even--the infection spreads through your body.

The blisters are the most disgusting part. It starts beneath your skin, like a bug, and burrows out. Blood goes everywhere--but bleeding out would be the least painful way to die from it. Typically, it reaches the rest of you, more specifically your brain or heart. Hallucinations. Pain everywhere. Blood. Pus. 

My train of thought was interrupted again and I shot my head down. The curtain had been pushed aside previously. Wuunferth had tied something around my upper thigh and was--cleaving through my thigh. Jut above the knee-- _and GODS_ , it fucking hurt! He wasn't just cutting the damned limb off--he was cutting in a 'v' shape--then gods I wouldn't forget the next part--the bone--my femur. He pulled it out of my damn leg. I hadn't realized I was screaming until then--the ringing in my ears stopped me from hearing myself.

I looked up to Galmar. He was white as a ghost and staring down remorsefully at me. I glanced over to Niren, who had her hands clamped over her ears. Wuunferth was now pulling flaps of skin together and sewing. That was when I stopped feeling it. I simply stared, eyes wide and dim, silent. Niren ran over to my side.

"Hey--gods--Herlaith." She desperately gripped my hand, squeezing it. Her palms were sweating and her tears fell on me. I stared up at her. I would have hated to be in her position. If I died--I got the release of death, and she would be left without protection from these monsters. When the thought occurred to me, I realized I was slipping. I gave her hand a squeeze, trying more to wake myself up. 

"If I survive, you owe me a drink." I looked up to Galmar who was almost passed out. You'd think after all the war he's caused and been through, he'd be used to this sort of sight. I had to admit, though. I liked seeing him so shocked and disgusted and terrified. It made him handsome.

"I'm sorry." He looked more traumatized than I was. I looked up again, confusion clear. "I--I didn't intend for this--how are you going to fight?" HE was looking down at me--fuck--the pain returned just as the truth came out. 

"Shit! Wuunferth--couldn't you have brute he knock me out for this?!" I screamed, feeling him shove some sort of metal rod into my leg. 

"And not know whether or not you were alive? No. Now hold still, this is extremely delicate--if you ever want to walk again." Wuunferth hissed, eyes focussed. "Shit--shit, we need to get her to Markarth--to Calcemo--he know's a lot more than I do about Dwemer machanics."

"Dwemer ..." I stared, most stunned now than in pain. I looked again, and it confirmed itself. He had a metal of dwarven metal sticking out of my leg. He had sewed up the skin around it and wrapped linen around it. "What the fuck are you doing--wait--no I can't go there. Ondolemar--Thalmor--fuck!"  I screamed, more out of frustration.

"Well, we'd might as well through you into the river before asking Calcemo to leave his precious lab and museum." Wuunfeth cringed and stood up, wiping his aptly bloody hands on his robes. "Come on. Long journey. Galmar, you're coming to."

"You don't get to give me orders, mage." Galmar growled, letting go of my shoulders and standing up.

"You're the only one--probably in the whole damn city--that can hold her down. Plus, what are we going to do if she can't walk, you'll lose your best political advantage." 

Wow, before that, I hadn't really thought about it, but that's how Ondolemar must have felt--used. The next thing I remember is being picked up, by guess who, yup, the man about as charming as a bear. 

"Watch you hands." I hissed. I hadn't actually meant to sound mean, actually, the intention was to sound sultry, but between the pain in my leg and my panic about being in the same hold as Ondolemar, my voice faltered. And gods be damned if he didn't notice. And fucking laughed. 

"I am watching them. Closely." Galmar laughed, carrying me outside. Niren was close behind, still holding onto my hand but keeping a safe distance from Galmar. 

Wuunferth was ahead of us. He payed for the carriage fair and I was laid on a bedroll that Wuunferth spread out. 

"You can't sit up, otherwise you might open up your leg." He explained. I wasn't complaining. Niren sat right next to me, still clinging to my hand for dear life. If I hadn't been on the verge of losing mine, I might have seen the humor in this situation. 

An elven girl I fell for, a grumpy mage determined on keeping me alive, and the creepiest man I'd met since Yngvar and his disposition to call me "his little girl". Ew. But, the trip was uneventful, for the most part. Wuunferth actually stopped the cart a few times to collect alchemy ingredients, Niren cuddled up to me and Galmar had his eyes on me. Which, the last, I expected normally. I usually kept myself neat and pretty, but like  _this_. His intentions were actually a mystery to me. I'd never liked that. Normally, people had clear intentions; sex, political power, money, but this guy. Ugh. It was beginning to drive me insane. I knew it would be some combination of the three, but the uncertainty was killing me more than my cut off leg. 

Then we got to the Reach. Forsworn attacked the camp once, but recognized me almost immediately.

"Herlaith Silver-Blood." Borkul's lips twitched into a grin and he held his hand up to stop his friend. 

"Why, it's certainly been a long time." I managed to sit up a bit, more to make eye contact than sit up. 

"Who is he--why does he know you?!" Galmar was looming over the orc, hammer ready. 

"Put it down, Galmar, he won't attack." I said, more annoyed than frightened. I looked back at Borkul. 

"We really need to get to Understone Keep." I gave him a sympathetic grin. He eyed me, then Niren, then Wuunferth. He frowned. 

"Don't let me see you leave then, otherwise, I'll cut up the big one." He growled, motioning towards Galmar. He sent a hand signal I recognized behind him towards cliffs and low brush. It was the one for 'don't attack; forsworn spy'. About 30 or 40 people scattered, running away. "You ought to come back. Drascua misses you. I can't believe you didn't ... Being a briarheart.. you certainly wouldn't be in this situation." With that, Borkul left, rather quickly. 

"You were a Forsworn." Galmar growled, grabbing my shirt collar.

"Were. That was in the past. I recognized their twisted logic. And left." Not entirely true--at all, actually, but I knew he wouldn't accept any other answer. "I was young, and in love." 

He stared at me for a moment then let go. "Fine." He said and sat back down.

After that little run in, we were in Markarth. They kept me covered up, under a blanket. I lied deathly still to help the illusion. Under the blanket it felt like another hour of travel through the city. My heart actually worked, too. As soon as we left the market, I could smell the familiar blood and--fuck--I heard Yngvar.

"Hold on. You shouldn't have a cart in the city." He said, stopping the entire carriage. "What are you doing? Who is that? We don't need  _any more_ blood."

"She's dead--move, we have to bury her." Wuunferth hissed, I could hear the contempt in Yngvar's voice. 

"Who is it? No one who lives here has left the city since... Herlaith went missing." The sadness I heard in his voice rose bile to my throat. "Is that her?" 

"Yes, she's dead, now move." Galmar growled.

"Let me see her, she's my lover." He stopped the cart. 

"Move! She's afflicted by Namira!" Niren yelled, standing up. "You'll die." She hissed the warning. If I hadn't been so disgusted by Yngvar, her possessiveness would have been the sexiest thing I'd experienced in a long time. 

I could just hear the surprise on Galmar's face. I inwardly smirked. Elves are weak huh? No honor?

"And by the Nine, if you don't move now, I will move you myself." Her Thalmor-esque accent was thick, but oh so pleasing to the ears.

"Try it, Thalmor-bitch. Don't think I don't remember why she went missing." Yngvar growled. I heard footsteps and someone jumping out of a cart. Shit, she was really going to do it. I pulled the blanket just slightly. Galmar was wide eyed, jaw practically unhinged with shock.

"Put me down--you filthy barbarian!" I heard her yell and then Yngvar scream, then a what sounded like ribs cracking. Galmar looked down at me, then back to the situation. Someone sat next to me and the cart started moving.

"By the Nine? You aren't trying to appeal to me, are you?" Galmar said, quiet.

"I'm trying to appeal to no one. Just because I was raised to be a certain way and believe certain things, doesn't mean I can't have my own set of beliefs, idols or gods." Niren was pissed and I had never been so attracted to her. "I can worship Talos if I please." 

I couldn't help but to grin. Galmar got put in his fuckin' place by an elf. The very one he tried to break. I gripped her hand. She was shaking. 

"What are you doing bringing a horse in here? What are you hauling?" 

"The sacred dead." Galmar yelled, reaching for his hammer. Lots less sexy than when Niren stood up--but then I realized who was talking, and also that she joined me under the blanket, scared as shit. "They're afflicted, we have to get Calcemo to treat them before they're buried."

"Fine, get them out of my sight and then leave as quickly as possible, Stormcloak." Ondolemar said behind barred teeth. I know if it weren't for the guards with drawn weapons there would have been blood and fire. Then the carriage started moving. I clung to Niren.

"What's this?" I heard Calcemo say, a pissed off edge to his voice, then it softened. "Wuunferth?" 

"In private, Calcemo. Preferably... in the museum." 

The mage understood Wuunferth's unsaid solilquy and guided the horse up stairs, stairs that almost bucked us out of the cart--or worse, the blanket off. 

It was silent for a while then the blanket was ripped off. I sat up and Niren moved.

"Oh. I see." Calcemo said grimly. "I suppose the other leg works, right? You... get the bear to leave. Have him guard to door." 

"Herlaith? Niren? By the Eight... What's going on?" I looked up to see Aicantar jump into the cart. He hugged Niren and leaned down to look at my leg. "Well, that's new."

Wuunferth and Calcemo were talking, and I could understand almost none of it. 

"Long time no see." I winked. It seems this week was full of reunions of former partners. He blushed and looked at Niren. "Wow, we all had sex, huh?"

"I--what--I" Niren blushed and buried her face in her hands. "How did you..."

"Cause the way you look at him is the way I look at both of you." I said, matter-of-factly. 

"It's good to see you both, and that most of you made it." He laughed. "Here for a new leg, huh? Heard what my Uncle did for that man?"

"I.. hadn't, but that must be the case." I smiled and noticed I was gripping Niren's hand. 

"Aicantar, prep her." Calcemo spoke up. 

"Well, here we go." Aicantar helped her onto a slab of stone, more table than bed. For not being a bar maiden, I was finding myself with my back on a table more than I'd liked. Not even getting laid. He rolled the leg of my pants up, pinning it back and examining the crude amputation. He held a light where he worked, removing the stitches. 

"Shit! Give me some damn warning!" I hissed, taking the scrap leather that Niren held to my mouth. This time I was starting to sweat; my body remembered the pain from last time. After all, it'd only been a week.  Aicantar unwrapped the linen and poured some sort of vile potion on it, rewrapping it then cleaning off the dwemer rod that stuck out like a bone. Calcemo looked down at it, then started to set up his workspace.

"This is going to take awhile, Niren." Wuunferth said quietly. "Perhaps you would like to rest." 

"No." She said sternly, holding my hand. This time they strapped me down instead of getting the bear to hold me there. I braced myself when I saw a fucking saw in Calcemo's hands. Niren was more scared than I was. I briefly held the thought that she fell for me as well, but dismissed it. I was her protection, like a housecarl. Or a mercenary. 

He put a curtain up and after that, I lost track of time. Noting only when I felt extreme pain, discomfort, or Niren's tears on my hand where she squeezed her eyes shut as I screamed. But she stayed there the whole time, holding my hand and helping me through it. I passed out after what Aicantar reassured me had been "only seven hours." 

When I woke up I was sitting in a chair--a sensation I missed and hated all at once. 

"She's awake!" Niren yelled, sitting in the chair next to mine. She grabbed my shoulders. "How are you feeling? Are you okay? Did I do it right?" She shook me.

"I--yes--what--what right?" I stammered, looking at her.

"Shh shh. Not too loud, it's illegal." She hushed me, frightened.

"What--what is?"

"Necromancy." She whispered. I could see fear in her eyes. "It was necessary, I swear, Calcemo taught it to me." 

"W-What do you mean.. Niren.." I looked down at my leg. My pants leg covered it. I rolled it up and stared at the intricate metal there. It was surprising to say the least. I almost pissed myself. My brain sent out a command to move it--and it did. That's right--it fucking moved. If I wasn't a bit drugged, supposedly skooma, to help with the pain, I would have lost it. I stared at it and wiggled the toes of my new foot. "This is.. Necromany.. then it won't last long."

"That's why he taught me the spell, love." Niren held my hand tightly. "It will last for a week or two at a time, but then you'll need to have it redone. He taught me how to do it." I stared for a moment, my heart hammering. The idea of being codependent on someone else, to have my fate in their hands, terrified me. But that's exactly how Niren felt. "No one will know. The muffle spell should last the same amount, it'll keep the joints from making noise and letting everyone know."

I stood up, wobbly, but proud. My heart faltered. I never realizd how much I would love standing up. I looked down at Niren, and held her eyes as she stood up, taking my hand.

"We have to leave. Ondolemar is asleep. Now's the best time. Wuunferth and Galmar are waiting outside the city." 


	6. The Mournful Palace of Kings

"Herlaith Silver-Blood." Of course the first thing I heard upon entering the Palace of Kings  _had to be_ the condescending tone in Ulfric's voice. 

"Ulfric," I said casually, walking in like I owned the damn place. In retrospect, it was never a good idea to piss him or Galmar off. 

"You're walking. I suppose then that you're ready to join my ranks?" He said through gritted teeth.

"Indeed that is the case." I pushed my chin high. With my leg back I stood taller than the Jarl. I approached the throne, not bothering to bow, I made it abundantly clear that I was a threat, by simply the way I held myself. "I am here to fight for you, my Jarl." I said soothingly. 

"It seems you had a run-in with the Forsworn on the way to Markarth." 

"Straight to the point. I admire that." My admiration didn't mean shit to him, and just as well because that goes both ways. It always had.

"He said that you knew the man that almost attacked your cart." His eyes drifted to the leg. 

"Borkul The Beast, Cidhna Mine, Forsworn Rampage, Future Briarheart." Under his gaze I felt the need to give him all the information I knew. Yet it was not out of fear, it was more the feeling of... I had stronger friends than he had. A real dick-measuring contest.

"I recognize the name. One of your former lovers."

_Shit, what?_

"I... how did you get that information?" And there we go. I visual crumbled and his grin showed that he was quite pleased. 

"I'm Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. I have friends all over." 

"And you're just telling me about this because you're trying to intimidate me?" I felt Galmar close in behind me. It was fucking working, beneath my cocky and proud mask I was shaking. 

"I'm letting you know." He smiled--that bastard smiled. He was enjoying watching me fall apart.

"That can't be your only point--that's a weak lie and you know it!" I did my best to stifle my fear of him. Galmar was closer.

"You're very important to me, Silver-Blood. I want you to know that I know. Everything. About your past. And you can hide no more from me, Herlaith." Galmar's hand was on my shoulder. I didn't dare break eye contact with Ulfric. I really was an insect. About to be ground up as an ingredient. "Rest, tonight. Tomorrow your training and conditioning to be a ranking officer begins." He noticed my pause. "Think I was going to make you a common soldier? Oh, no, couldn't have that." He laughed. "You're your father's daughter. Wouldn't waste that." He nodded to Galmar. That's when I glanced back. Galmar's face was stern but hid something frightening and startled. He was scared of Ulfric's intentions as well. 

"Then, if you'll excuse me." I bowed my head then and shrugged Galmar's hand off, quickly pacing to the bedroom. I sat down on the bed and stared down at Niren. She looked up at me then wrapped her arms around my waist, nuzzling her groggy self into my side. I just... stared. I felt so helpless and tiny--and too inexperienced for this. My father would have held his own here, but then again,  _he_ would have been greeted with open arms. 

"Something troubling you, Herlaith?" She looked up at me again, this time sitting up next to me. 

"That thing you said... about me being a spider. You said I was poisonous." I watched her eyes narrow.

"Yes... I did. Why?"

"Why not venomous? Why can't I bite them and they suffer?" 

"Dear..." She reached out and stroked my cheek. "You have to _let_ them taste you first, for them to suffer." 

"Are you suggesting seduction?"

"I'm suggesting whatever means it takes to let them get under your skin, make themselves at home, then... then your poison to take hold." Her eyes held mine. I briefly noted that she was far more dangerous than Ulfric and Galmar and Ondolemar combined. That thought was pushed out of my head when her soft lips met mine. She stayed there for a moment, then pulled away. 

"Niren..." I had never seen a more beautiful sight. She pulled away with heavy lids and a blush sprawled across her face.

"Sorry.. I--" She hesitated just long enough for me to push her onto her back and assault her with kisses. I leaned into her, her lips, her body. I wanted all of it and she was more than happy to receive me. She wrapped those long, thin arms around my neck and wrapped her hands in my hair. I left a trail of kisses from her mouth to her ear. 

"Don't ever apologize to me. Nothing you could do could warrant that." I whispered, then pulled away from her ear to look at her face. "My lovely Niren..." I left the rest of my sentence unsaid, afraid to say it out loud, and in any other way than actions. I ran a thumb across her lip and gripped her chin lightly to draw her eyes back to mine. I ran delicate fingers, barely touching her down to the bottom hem of her shirt and tugged at it, making eye contact again. She nodded.

Her body was perfect. I'm not even sure why, but once I pulled her clothes off I was struck with just how cute she was. I looked back at her face to see her squirming and blushing. If it weren't for our encounter with Aicantar I would have thought she never experienced a lover's touch. I pulled my own clothes off, something I'd learned to do rather quickly, over the years. 

"You don't have to..." She looked away, almost wary. 

"I want to, but I'll stop if you don't want this." I whispered into her collarbone. After waiting a moment and hearing no more I continued. "Tell me if you want me to stop." Then I continued exploring her with my hands and lips. Her belly was flat and her curves were minuscule to say the least, but I was more attracted to her than any previous person that I bedded. I ran my hands up to her breasts again and gently removed the bindings she wore. It was there for nothing more than to keep the cold out, but her small breasts fit her small frame perfectly. I showered her with kisses and light touches, and that alone had her practically panting and leaning into my hands. I couldn't surpress my grin as I moved down. Kissing and biting from nipple to belly button. I stopped and looked up at her. She nodded again, more hesitant this time. 

I tugged her skirts and smalls down kissing her pelvic mound. She gasped and looked away again. I noted how she dug her fingers into the sheets. I brushed my finger over her inner thigh, practically reveling in how she shivered and her skin responded.

The light from the candle on the headboard flickered and I glanced up at it, then at the door. I pulled the blanket over Niren and sat up to give our intruder a more pissed off look.

"I don't care, you're needed for training." Galmar said sternly, looking up at the ceiling.

"The Jarl said I had tonight to rest. You can wait."

"Wars don't wait." 

"At least let me finish up here." I said coyly, and sat back on my knees, perfectly aware of my nudity and caring about as much as Mara would for Molag Bal. Niren covered her face with the blanket. I smirked and looked back at Galmar, who was actually blushing. It was a good look for him. 

"Just.." He sighed, frustrated. "Hurry up, then come down to the training yard." He left, slamming the door and murmuring something as his footsteps stormed away. 

"I can't believe you said 'finish up', oh my gods." Niren's voice was shakey and embarrassed. I let out a laugh and yanked the blankets away. She squealed, suddenly finding herself immensely shy. I leaned down again, kissing her thigh and causing her to squeak but lay back down. 

"Now that we won't be interrupted, one of us might as well get something out of tonight." I ran two fingers across her slit to make sure she was prepared, then delved into her, gently but insistently all at once. It wouldn't be long before she reached orgasm, but that didn't mean I had to draw it out. Teasing and playing would have to be left for another night. I leaned forward and ran my tongue over her clit. She moaned and wove her lithe fingers into my hair. I thrust into her more quickly, then, running fingers over the front of her walls.

"He-...Herlaith." She breathed through her trembling throat, gripping my hair with an almost painful throat. I kept pushing my fingers into her until her orgasm was completely over. I stood up from her, admiring the way she burrowed herself into the bed, blushing and panting. I leaned over and kissed her again before standing up and finding my clothes. I rinsed my hands off in a wash basin and grabbed my sword. I took a last glance at her, mouthing something. She smiled at me before blowing out the candle. 


	7. Diplomacy Should Be Ended By My Sword In Ulfric's Throat

“I don’t have armor.” She spoke up to Galmar, entering the courtyard full of weapon racks and training dummies.

“That’s fine.” He said, averting his eyes from me. It seems I made a better impression than I thought. He finally glanced up. “I’m going to teach you to fight like a Nord. You fight like a thief.”

“The way I fight is fine.” I said, defensively. First of all, what the fuck, Galmar. I’m not some fucking kid.

“It’s not honorable.” He said loudly and grabbed his weapon. “Get ready, because we aren’t going to stop training until you’re on the ground or I say so.”

“Should have took longer with Niren.” I muttered dropping my center of gravity and putting both hands on my sword. He made eye contact before charging at me. His steps were heavy, sure-footed and predictable. I moved away and his hammer hit the ground. “You’re trying to kill me!”

“So will every Imperial.” He spat, running at me again. I blocked this time, both arms over my head. I stood my ground and for a few moments managed to hold him back, until he started coming closer. I quickly dropped and rolled between his hammer and the ground, then seized it with both hands, ripping it from his own.

“Imperials won’t fight with ‘honor’ either.” I said harshly, dropping his weapons back into his hands. “I’m one of the best fighters your army will have, don’t you think this sort of training is… unnecessary?” I did genuinely wonder.

“It is very necessary, Silver-Blood, and if you could stop running your mouth, and pick up your sword, we could continue.”

“Fine.” I said picking it up with only one hand and tossing it to the other. Fuck this guy. He was getting under my skin. “I’ll fight with honor then, Galmar.” Honor or not, I’ll fight like a Nord should. Something I was not necessarily accustomed to, but knew vaguely how to. I reached down, hiking up my skirt and ripping it midcalf. His eyes flashed to the leg. Not out of lust. That thing was actually kind of horrifying. I pulled my hair back out of my face. Quickly, just before he charged I tucked the necklace that held my family’s ring into my shirt.

I ran at him before he got the chance. I swung my sword harhsly, planning to separate his head from his shoulders. He blocked with his hammer, staggering me. He landed on a punch on my ear. I fell to my knees but scurried out of the way of his hammer again.

“I’m going to break that damn thing.” I hissed. “Use an ax or a sword, why do you use a giant fucking hammer, you fucking animal?”

“Because if I used the ax like I always do, I’d tear you in half.” He hissed.

“Bull shit.” I shot back. I really ought to have not ran my mouth, because he was right. “I’ll make you kneel like a fucking child.” I yelled, charging at him with such ferocity, than when he blocked he fell back. I should have stopped then, but I kept going, kept slashing and stabbing and swinging. He was panting, frightened, blocking with everything he had. Had I been of sound mind at the moment I might have noticed his arms bleeding. Then I felt a foot in my gut. I stumbled back but charged him again as he stood up. This time he grabbed me  by my shoulders and slammed me into a wall.

“Galmar--” He wrenched the blade from my hand and held my wrists with both of his hands. “Stop!--this isn’t sparring.”

“Who’s in charge here, Silver-Blood?” He said, face inching closer.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to accomplish from this, but let me grab my blade and we will fight again.” I said warily. I knew what he was doing. I knew when someone was making a move.

“We are. Imperials have been known to rape prisoners.”

“So? Does that mean you’re going to take advantage of me?” I glared now, feeling fury bubble beneath my hands.

“Perhaps. But not if you get away.” He made his mistake. He grabbed both my wrists with both hands and went for my breast with the other. I ripped one wrist out and brought my elbow down onto his face. I felt cracking beneath it and pushed him back.

“Fuck!” He screamed, stumbling back and holding his nose.

“If you wanted sex, Galmar, all you had to do was ask nicely. Perhaps beg.” I spat on the ground next to him. “If you ever presume you can take me without my consent again, I will cut off your balls and feed them to you.”

I turned and left, making sure he saw me walk away from him. I entered the palace and began walking back to the room.

“You are already training, Silver-Blood?” I heard Ulfric say as I made to pass through the war room to get to another hall. I halted.

“Galmar insisted on training. I don’t think he’ll be training me again.” I said. My body still felt his hand on it. I shut my eyes for a moment then made eye contact. “You should moniter your officers. I find his training tactics disgusting.” I left again, not letting Ulfric get a word in before taking the ring-necklace out of my shirt and wearing it freely. It was my sign of aggression.

“Silver-Blood.” He stopped me with simple words. I turned, pushing hair out of my face and holding eye contact.

“I will make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He almost sounded apologetic. That was confusing, to say the least. “But a chance has arisen to prove to me your loyalty.” I swear, if he meant sex I was going to just take Niren and fucking leave.

“Go on.”

“If you manage to rescue your father, you and your lover may join the ranks. Of course, you’ll be a higher ranking officer, such as Galmar and Niren will… not.”

“And where would you send an ex-Thalmor, Altmer woman in your army that would be safe for her, if not by my side?” I said, scoffing.

“You have a point, Herlaith.” He paused, raising up from leaning over the table. “Tell me, why would you fight for me? I killed Forsworn and Thalmor and you seem to have an eye for both.”

“Ah, so this again, hm? That’s fine.” I sighed, not having the energy to be annoyed at him. “I fight for you because I believe that Skyrim ought to be free from the grips of those who would not shed blood or stand up to opposition for it.” I smiled. While it was partially true, I mostly fought to save my own ass, and Niren.

“Right. That is a noble cause. I suggest now, that you rest. Tomorrow, we skip your training. You go to the Embassy.” He said. I stared for a moment, and he held my eyes with his own. I nodded just barely then let, brow furrowing in confusion. Niren was sound asleep and I decided not to wake her. I stood there, though, watching her sleep. I looked down at my hands to find them trembling. He meant both of us. I knew that much. By some means, Niren would get into the Embassy with me.

I sighed and walked over to the dresser and redressed. My intimidation tactic worked, but at the cost of a dress. I pulled a fur cloak around my shoulders and hesitated before pulling a cowl up and tucking my hair into the hood. I opened left the bedroom, avoiding the guards and Ulfric. I left the Palace, passing by two guards and into the city. A blanket of snow had freshly coated everything. The sky was grey and blue, filled with light and yet clouded. I left the city, walking towards the stables. I saw that distantly, a Khajiit caravan pitched their tents and were still awake. I approached, finding the Khajiit much, much more relaxing and hospitable than the rest of the country’s races.

“Ma’dran welcomes you, hidden stranger.” One spoke up from his place at the entrance to his tent. “Sit, talk with this one, we can tell you have a lot on your mind.” I suspected that he saw the ring instead and assumed I could help him, but I did and I would if he asked.

“Thank you.” I said before sitting where he pointed. It was out of the snow and wind.

“Tell Ma’dran.” He said soothingly.

“Tell.. you what?”

“You smell of Stormcloak and Thalmor.” His voice was quite. “You have troubles.”

“More than I can speak of.” I broke into a smile.

“The Khajiit can keep your secrets.”

“Right…” I sighed. “The Jarl has me under his command and the Thalmor are hunting me. Actively.” I shuddered a bit.

“You’re cold. Come further into the tent. Ma’dran has something to help you relax.” He purred, scooting out of the way. I crawled in. In retrospect, a very bad idea. But that’s how most of my story gets told. “Here.” He handed me a pipe. I avidly remembered this and smiled, thankfully. I took a deep drag from it and handed it back. A warmth rushed over me. “Now, why are the Thalmor hunting you, friend?”

“Fucked one of their officers and he misses me.” I grinned head drifting to one side. “He’s the jealous type.”

“Ah, yes, yes, Ma’dran can understand that. The stranger is pretty, it would not be hard to be jealous.”

I stared, almost frightened, but smiled again. “Thank you.” He handed me a contraction. It was connected to an alchemy boiler by a tube which connected to the pipe.

“This batch is about to expire and Ma’dran does not wish it to waste.” He smiled. I saw his tail flick out from behind him. I stared for a moment before accepting it. I breathed in the fumes, holding them within me for a moment before gently blowing them from my lungs. The smoke was purple and soft. That’s when I realized that he recognized me. While most caravans avoided the Reach, for good reason, Ma’dran had often associated with the Forsworn, selling and trading goods to them.

“Oh.” I said, grinning.

“Yes, yes, you recognize this one.” He seemed genuinely happen. I pulled my hood down so it rested with my cowl around my neck. “What can Ma’dran do for you?”

“Answer me,” I said calmly, “why are you so concerned for me?”

“You are the Nord who saved Ma’dran from the Forsworn.”

I just stared at him, contemplating when that had happened. He couldn’t be mistaking me for anyone, cause I was the only damned Nord in their entirity, but most of my time there I was on some sort of Aphrodisiac or other drug, so I didn’t remember most of it. I hardly remembered Borkul and Senna.

“Ah, I see.” I smiled again.

“Is there any way that Ma’dran could help you?”

“Actually… yes.” I stared into his eyes, taking another breath of the smoke and exhaling it. “I have to break into the Thalmor Embassy.” I spoke lightly to hide my quickly rising fear. I took in more of the drug and it was then that my hands finally stopped trembling. “I’d like help. An escape, really. I understand your caravan travels between here and Solitude. Their Embassy is north of there. I’d like you to go to Solitude and wait. It’s likely I’ll need your help to escape.”

“Ma’dran will do that. We will leave in the morning, just as you.” He nodded, grinning. “It is 15 hours to Solitude. Do you wish for us to wait nearer to the Embassy?”

“No. I don’t want to endanger a friend.”

“Then this one will bring his caravan to Solitude’s gates and wait.”

“Thank you, Ma’dran. You’ve paid your honor debt ten fold.” I stood up and kissed him on the cheek before pulling up my hood and cowl. He smiled up at me as I left, taking the suspicious glare from the guard.


	8. Elenwen and Company

“I hope you’re prepared, you’re leaving immediately. Niren is accompanying you, and I have seen to it that she has procured and packed your supplies.” Ulfric said as I entered the throne room.

“Let’s get those over with. Do you have a plan?”

“I… haven’t been near those damned elves long enough to have a plan.” He said hesitantly. “You have your wits and your Thalmor lover. If all else fails you can pretend to go crawling back to the one from Markarth.” He noted, with a hint of amusement. I actually felt a bit offended. It was only be who was allowed to joke about my promiscuity and desperations for thrills of the flesh.

“Then if we do not return in… a week, you will send word to Ma’dran and his caravan in Solitude that I have died.” I said, never faltering. Niren met my side and I turned, grabbing her face gently and kissing her. I broke away and made eye contact with the Jarl again before leaving, guiding her by the hand. I knew exactly what I just did, and even though it seemed like a spur of the moment, I-saw-her-beautiful-face, decision, it was a calculated blow to the ego. A future high-ranking Stormcloak Officer, shamelessly kissing her exThalmor lover in his throne room. I couldn’t have insulted him more, and judging by the fury behind his eyes, he knew it.

                                                                                                                                  * * *   
  


We neared the Embassy. She was trembling, but both of our faces were covered. Hers was completely shadowed by hood and cowl.

“This way.” She said quietly, guiding me to what looked like a cave. I stared at her questioningly. “I used to play here when I was a kid. They… throw bodies away down here.”

“You played with dead bodies?”

“This isn’t important--we have to rescue your father.”

“No” I grabbed her shoulders. “This is much more important. First the Necromany spell, now this? Niren…”

“I have to use the spell for your leg--I swear, that’s the only reason I use it.” She looked at me. I couldn’t quite see her eyes, but I could see the panic. My face softened and I decided not to chase it. For now. I would bring it up later, when I had her near orgasm, then I would deny her of it until she told me the truth. She nudged me in the arm, roughly, embarrassed, as if reading my thoughts. I laughed quietly and blushed.

“Let’s get going then.” I said, waiting for her to take the lead. She did and we passed by frozen bodies, some fresh, some far too long without Arkay’s rites. The decay was nausiating. I paused and stared. There was another Nord laying on the ground. A dead body, but… so living still. She just stared at me with bulging, frozen, blue eyes. Her hair was white but she was young. She must have been a relative to the Grey-Mane family.

“Come on. It’s too late. There’s nothing you can do for them.” Niren tugged my hand and spoke gently. She used to play here. With corpses. I stared at her but followed her. She was no butterfly or torchbug. She was a Chaurus parading as a Lunar Moth.

I was ripped from my train of thought by her opening a hatch on the ceiling of wherever we were.

“Come. It’s clear.” She whispered, hopping up and holding out a hand.

I followed, heart beating, hands sweating, mind racing. I heard ringing in my ears--like screaming--constant screaming!

“Herlaith?” I heard his voice. My father was in the cell right across from the hatch. Niren approached, hushing him and opening the cage. She picked the lock on his shackles and I caught him as he fell.

“Hi.” I said hoarsely, feeling as if my breath was being sucked out of my lungs.

“Halt!” I heard someone yell.

“Shit--take him--go to Solitude. Khajiit caravan--Ma’dran. Tell him that the Reach is ripe for merchants. Go now!” I hissed, practically shoving them. Niren nodded, pulling my father away and escaping. I made to follow but was grabbed. I looked up to see a familiar face I couldn’t put a name to. I was horrified, but at least it wasn’t Ondolemar himself. It was one of his guards, or apparently, former guards. He stared at me for a moment before recognizing me and smirking.

“It seems I’ll be getting promoted, soon enough.” He said before throwing me in the cell. “Stay there and look pretty. Settle in, go on.” But there was no hospitality. He slammed the cage shut and laughed to himself, shaking his head. He would be the first one I kill when I got out. I briefly noted to speak to Ondolemar about how ill-witted his guards were. They hadn’t checked me for weapons.

And lucky for me, it wasn’t long that I had to wait before another one came close. He stood with his back to my cell for a moment. It was only a moment, but I slit his throat and took his keys. I rolled his body aside and stripped him of his armor. I donned it, and his sword. I glanced at the escape hatch. I could just run--leave, find Niren, but I of course not. At that moment I was furious. I glanced over at an oblivious guard.

He was the one who sent for Ondolemar. I approached quietly and spun him around, forcing him up against the wall. He tried to fight, but was met with the sword of his friend ripping through his face. I just wanted him to see who killed him before I sent him to Oblivion. I should have stopped there. My damage wasn’t with the rest of them, but I was a stubborn Nord.

I ran up the stairs, running my sword through another guard--stole his sword and whipped around, quick enough to avoid a dagger in the chest, but not quick enough to dodge the lightning. I made a quick move and cut off both his hands. He screamed, but I left him there. Bad move, too, because that pulled more guards to the room. I slashed, screaming a war chant. Many fell but I was quickly overpowered. The armor and weapons were ripped from me as several guards held me down on my knees by my arms. I looked up to see an Elven woman smirking . That stupid bitch’s name was Elenwen.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Ondolemar’s little Forsworn.”

“My name is Herlaith Silver-Blood, and I was _never_ Ondolemar’s. You just can’t fathom how he was in love with me, because I’m a Nord.”

“Don’t be so idiotic. Even he, young, would never fall for you.” She scoffed, disgusted by the idea.

“Well, he certainly was saying something different when I rode his cock.” I smirked now, hoping to disgust her further. It worked. Badly. She kicked me in the sternum, causing me to almost go limp and cough until I could breathe again. “What? Jealous? You should be. He had a big one.” I continued to infuriate her.

“Shut your mouth before I sew it shut! You’ll be hung by the moon’s new cycle. It’ll be Ondolemar who does it--just to prove you wrong.” She smiled down at me.

“Of course I will.” I said with a scowl.

“Luckily for you, we don’t need any information from you, but I don’t see the harm in… taking liberties.”

“Take all the liberties you want, babe.” I winked, grinning. “It won’t make this any easier on you. I’m a Silver-Blood, and a high Stormcloak Officer, right under Ulfric himself.”

“I don’t doubt that you are right under him, you disgusting whore.”

“Only for those who are…” I let my eyes follow her body’s lines. She wasn’t nearly as pretty as Niren. “More filled out.” I smirked up at her again and spat at her feet.

“You little bitch.” She kicked me again, this time in the mouth. Even without seeing myself I knew she’d busted open my lip and probably chipped a tooth or two. “Put her in a cell, strip her and chain her up this time, you idiots.” She hissed.

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

It wasn’t. They practically ripped my clothes from me, and not in a fun way. They held me in that awful half-squat-half standing position. They didn’t let me keep my smalls. I guess I was that dangerous.

After that, I didn’t speak, I lost track of time. Until I saw Ondolemar. Yes, he was still handsome.

“My, my.” He said, watching me. “Still find yourself chained up by your superiors.” He scoffed. He looked hurt and drunk and angry all at once.

“Sorry about the note, babe. I had to leave.”

“You joined the Stormcloaks!”

“What did you want me to do?! Stay in your room all day? Be your pet?”

“You shouldn’t have left.”

“I would have died if I stayed.”

“You had your way with the officers I sent to retrieve you. You killed all of them.”

“I…” Except for Niren. Gods, I missed her. She was attached to me by hand until I got captured. “They attacked me.” I looked up at him sympathetically. “The wizard did this to me.” I looked down at my leg. Since the spell hadn’t been renewed it was just a hunk of metal.

“You… came back to Markarth right under my nose.”

“Yes.”

“You were with that Stormcloak.”

“Yes.”

“Are you and he…?”

“By the Nine, if I had to have sex with that man I would cut out my vagina.” I shuddered falsely. In reality, I probably wouldn’t mind it, but I knew how to play the Thalmor in front of me.

“If I let you out, are you going to fight me?”

“Of course not… I couldn’t bring myself to do that, even if you did try to kidnap me.” I smiled jokingly. He unshackled me and held me for a moment until I got the feeling back in my still human leg. I stood up.

“You know that I have to hang you.” He said solemnly.

“Yes… Elenwen told me. Happily.” I looked away and leaned on the metal leg, folding my arms around my chest. It was always cold here. He reached out and moved hair from my face. He stared at me. “I… I missed you.”

“You’re not getting out of being hanged.” He said coldly.

“Then I will face it happily.” I coiled arms around his waist and buried my face in the crook of his neck.

“Stop. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” But he didn’t push me away. At first. After a few minutes like that, he grasped my shoulders and pulled me off of him. “My first priority will always be the Thalmor.” He said harshly. My smile turned into something more wicked. I smirked.

“And mine is to Niren.” I seized his throat, and put him in a headlocked. I squeezed until he passed out. This time I wasn’t fighting, I was running. I stole his robe and escaped through the body shute. I hopped down and shut it behind me. Those idiots never thought of people escaping through it? Perhaps they didn’t realize it was a cave, or perhaps they were too confident in their shackles and guards. Either way, I wasn’t angry about it. I ran as fast I could. I wish I would have stolen his boots and perhaps everything else, but I knew he would wake up or a guard would come soon, so I ran. My foot had turned blue. I ran to Solitude but realized that it was probably crawling with Thalmor, so I ran still. The metal leg was stiff and wouldn’t bend, but it held me up. I must have looked hilarious or frightening, but hysteria fueled me. I looked a guard in the eye and stole a horse, hauling ass all the way to Windhelm. The horse ran for 15 hours straight before we were there. I let the horse go after petting it. I walked into the city with my hood down. People watched me warily. I was still wearing the robes and my leg was making awful screeching noises. I threw open the doors to the palace. Ulfric jolted, glancing up from my father to see who was there. My father was wrapped in bandages and yet wearing Stormcloak Officer’s armor. I approached the Jarl.

“Your leg is off.” Ulfric adressed me. My father said nothing, but shock was written all over his face. It was a face I was accustomed to.

“Needs tinkering,” I dismissed. “I did your deed, now I am here to join your ranks.”

He simply nodded.

“Talk to Galmar, to take your Oath, and… change clothes.”

“Herlaith…” My father grabbed my arm. “I heard it was you who saved me. I couldn’t tell at the time, I was drugged.”

“Yes, myself and my lover.” He froze and looked back to Ulfric, who nodded. “We rescued you so that we could join the cause.” I pulled my arm from him. He glanced down at the ring that hung from my necklace. They hadn’t managed to take it.

“You… I would like the heirloom back.” He said sternly, motioning.

“I would love to give it to you, father, but you must earn it, first.” I said calmly. “I have. Our name is alive and well in Markarth. Thanks to me.” I nodded at him. He scoffed.

I turned and left, to find Galmar hovering over a table, holding his head. I smirked. His nose looked different, thanks to me. He glanced up. 


	9. Breton or Imperial, I Still Don't Know.

“You look… actually kind of stunning in those.” Niren laughed under her breath. I glanced over at her after adjusting the suggestively placed bear paws and pulling the hood up.   
“And you look like someone under my command.” I winked, eyeing the way the stormcloak cuirass hugged her. She blushed. I grinned and turned back to the mirror.   
“Where are they going to send you?” Niren walked up behind me and stood on her tip toes just enough to set her her chin on my head. I grimaced.  
“Hopefully Markarth, when they take it and eradicate the Thalmor from the hold. Until then, from camp to camp.”   
“And your father?”   
“Hopefully, he’ll be in Oblivion.” I hissed and surprised her. She wrapped her arms around me.   
“You… don’t like your father?”  
“I hate his guts. He is only a political advantage. Never to be mistaken for familial love.”  
“I see.” She buried her face in the crook of my neck. She had said before that she like to do that because I had a peculiar scent. She said it smelled like warm honey and pine tree sap. I had never been told that before, it was odd but somehow sweet.   
Then it was into battle. She was close behind. Ulfric told me she would have to stay with me as a personal underling. Both of us were fine with that.  
“It is a very fitting look for you, Silver-Blood. My armor.” Ulfric nodded acknowledgement to me as I walked in. My father looked between us from where he sat at the table, brooding no doubt.   
“Yes, I agree.” I said, smiling a charming one. Niren was on my heel, afraid under the Jarl’s gaze.   
“Then I assume you are ready for your first assignment?”  
“I am, my Jarl.” I stared. He glanced down to the ring and then looked back at my eyes.  
“You will run the Falkreath Hidden Stormcloak Camp for a week. Await further instruction there. Niren,” He spoke up to the girl behind me. “You are to remain with Herlaith Silver-Blood. A word of advice, elf,” I narrowed my eyes at Ulfric and my father looked like I stabbed him, instead. “My advice is that you do not remove that armor. And if word has got out, that you have left her side even for a moment, then you will be hauled back to my dungeon.”   
Niren nodded quickly in response.   
“Then go, Silver-Blood. Talos guide you.” He waved a dismissal.   
I turned on heel, not speaking a word to my father and leaving. Niren followed suit. We walked through the city, making no stops and quickly finding the stables. We had separate horses. Niren was just ahead of me, riding quickly, as if Thalmor were on her heels. They weren’t yet, but it would be likely they would be soon. I followed her this time, guiding my horse after hers. We stopped a few hours later to let our horses rest. After that we rose all the way to Whiterun, our stop for the night. We stayed in the Bannered Mare.  
“One room, please.” I handed the woman behind the counter 10 septims and she showed Niren to where the room was. I however, stayed downstairs, drinking.   
“Hey there, gorgeous,” I turned around to get a face full of mage. I was pressed against the counter by his kiss. After the initial shock, or perhaps after I decided here was not the place I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him just far enough away so he would stop touching me.  
“I have a lover.” I said calmly.   
“Then invite her too.” His words were slurred together, and his face was relaxed and energetic, but his eyes didn’t express his intoxication. I eyed him carefully. “C’mon, let’s go back to your room, Herlaith.” That’s when I snapped and yanked his hood away.   
“How is it you know about me?”  
“Ain’t I supposed to know about my… possible priestesses.” At his pause his hands were on my waist.   
“I suggest you remove those before I cut them off.” I said with a charming smile. I reached up and gripped his chin between curled fingers and thumb, gently pushing his advances back. “It would be a shame.”   
“Alright, alright. I will if you have a drinking contest with me.”  
“Now, you speak to me.” I grinned ferociously. I was a Nord through and through, I could hold much more alcohol than this Imperial or Breton. Admittedly, I got those two confused often.   
“Here, first one.” He downed a tankard then handed me one. I hesitated but drank it as quickly as possible, wiping a bit that dripped down my chin. Rinse and repeat until we were on our seventh round and I was about to pass out when Niren approached me and caught my swaying body. I don’t recall what happened next.


	10. Camp

"Come now, Herlaith. You look surprised." The Dremora in front of me cackled. 

"I suppose I'm not. You did say something odd about a priestess." I looked him up and down. He had at least a head ahead of me in height. 

"Ah! Yes! You really are a Silver-Blood! Haha! Straight to business. That's... dreadful." He grew serious. Then grinned. "You'd make a good preistess, all you have to do is agree to help spread some... merriment." He laughed again. Loudly.

"And how do I go about that?"

"I'll tell you in time. Until then, take this." He handed me what looked like an amulet. It had a crescent moon that held an opal center. The moon itself was black and seemed to be enchanted. 

"Are you going to tell me what this does?" I slipped it over my head then put a hand on my waist.

"Ha! Haha. Yeah, it makes your more irresistible. Look at you. Tilting your hips. It affects your actions too." He laughed grabbing my hips with both hands and shaking me a bit. I swatted at him. He just laughed in response. "I know you're an officer and I'm sure it might cause a bit of trouble. But don't worry. I'm no Molag Bal. If you say no, they'll probably stop. If not, you can break their nose." 

"And there's no... agenda?" I narrowed my eyes.

"Ha. Caught me." He leaned in close, a bit too much. His eyes were hooded with lust. I stared. Something about him transfixed me. Perhaps it was the fact I'd never seen a dremora before, and he looked like one. 

"And what is it then?"

"I'm using you to cause a bit of political ruckus."

"I'm seducing someone, aren't I?"

"Yes, and you've already done most of it." 

"Who?"

"Guess."

"By the Nine, do you mean Ulfric or Galmar?" I cringed. "They're old enough to be my fathers."

"So am I." Sanguine cocked his head a bit, staring. It caused me to shift uncomfortably. "That doesn't matter to me, or them. Look, Herlaith, just go about your business and... accept their little advances." He winked. "It won't hurt, I'm sure. Niren doesn't seem the jealous type. Besides, you're _pretending_ to be lovers." 

"I think I see what you're getting at, but... why?" I took a step back and he took one forward. His hands pulled me too close for me to relax at all.

"Daedra don't get involved with mortal politics, normally." He noted, grinning. "But I know that you are a trouble maker. Everyone knows it. I'm using you to... entertain myself." He laughed a bit, thinking about it. 

"And what of Niren? Why is she here? In this... realm? Is this Oblivion." I looked around. It looked like just some swampish forest area with table set up and barrels of what was undoubtedly alcohol.

"I thought we might, celebrate our little arrangement." Like that his lips were inches from my ear and Niren stirred. 

"I don't know." I struggled to speak actual words. His closeness was getting under my skin. I planted a firm hand on his chest and pushed just a bit. Niren came to my side, staring at the large creature.

"Herlaith... who--what is that?" She stared, gripping onto my sleeve.

"Oh, she's cute." He looked at me then back to Niren, who was actually, humorously trembling. "Her voice is so seductive." He leaned over to make direct eye contact. Her fingers dug into my arm, pulling me in front of her.

"You're frightening her, you cunt." I said as harshly as possible, trying not to break into a laugh. She was genuinely scared of him. 

"Oh? Am I, little Niren?" He gripped her jaw and was just a hair away from her lips. I felt a surge of jealousy I wasn't aware was there. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against me.

"Mine." I hissed, possessively. He raised and eyebrow.

"Be that as it may. You, Herlaith, are mine. By extension, she is as well." He smirked, standing up straight. "But I see she's to frightened to celebrate anything. I'll send you two back, then."

Like that both of us were in our room at the inn. I glanced up at Niren.

"Who.. was that? What did he want with us?" Her shaking finally stilled and she sat down on the bed. I sat next to her then laid my head in her lap. 

"Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery." I said coolly, staring up at her. She played with my hair, idly.

"You're... his?"

"Not if I have any say in it. Fuck him, I'm going to Sovngarde, and bringing you." I snuggled into her belly, causing her to squeal and squirm. She giggled and pried me from her. One of my favorite things about her was how endearing it was that she was so ticklish. 

"We should get going, Herlaith. It's morning." 

"Ugh. But I'm tired and--fuck, I'm sore." I was half convinced that Daedric bastard had his way with me despite his word. 

"Come on, my love. We have a long day ahead of us. We must leave now if you want to make good time towards Falkreath." Her hand found my neck and she leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on my lips before hesitating. "... I'm sorry." She said, staring at me.

"Don't apologize." I smirked and stole another kiss before hopping up. It seems that Sanguine wasn't lying. Even Niren with all her bidden barriers fell victim. It only served to make her cuter, it seemed. 

We made our way to the stables, where we quickly departed. After two hours of riding we stopped for lunch. We were four hours away from the camp, but when we settled down under a tree to escape the oddly berating sun, I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

I grabbed Niren and shoved her into the dirt quickly enough to save her from an arrow. She stayed there, startled. I stood up, drawing my sword. 

"Show yourself!" I yelled, standing between her and where the arrow came from. Another flew and I jerked my arm quick enough to deflect it with my sword. I glanced down. An ebony arrow coated in thick poison. I narrowed my eyes from where the arrow came and deflected a second. Finally, a scrawny man plated in dark armor emerged from the shadows. I recognized it almost immediately. The Black Hand. In the blink of an eye he was in front of me, two daggers crossing my sword. I yanked back in time to dodge a blow across the face. I ducked and shoved my sword at him, he parried and landed a blow on the side of my head with the hilt of a dagger. I merely stumbled, staggered, then stood up straight and looked into his shocked eyes. "You cannot kill me, you worthless assassin." I smirked and slashed at him again. This time however, he took the slash and grabbed my sword, yanking it from me. I growled and advanced with swift steps. I grabbed him my the throat and squeezed. He had lost one dagger in surprise, but managed to slip the dagger into my shoulder with his flailing. It stuck and the tip of it came through the other side. Niren gasped.

"Herlaith!" She yelled. I glanced back at her then the assassin. Death was in my eyes and I didn't try to hide it. He desperately tried to pull the dagger free but I tightened my grip and lifted him off the ground. He was a Dunmer. 

"Who sent you?" I hissed.

"Sithis." He said between gritted teeth.

"Who has a contract against me?!" I tightened my grip again, causing panic to rise behind his eyes, but he did his best to hide it. That at least was admirable. 

"I'll tell you only that you know him, and it was... quite interesting." The Dunmer laughed with all the breath he had. I glowered for a minute then sat him down. "What are you doing? I am still going to try to kill you." He was eyeing my shoulder. He had let go of the dagger. I looked down at him with both hands planted firmly on his shoulders. I waited a moment, to let him become fully confused and frightened by my unreadable action. Then I grabbed both sides of his head and wrenched his head sideways until everything within it cracked and tore and the only thing holding it on was the skin. I let the corpse fall. Niren stared in horror.

"Let's skip this meal. I'd rather get to the camp. Who knows when another will come." I said, looking down at her. Rage still danced in my eyes and she was terrified. I wanted with all of my being to kneel and hold her and tell her she was okay, but something within me told me to let her see. Let her see that I wasn't just a seductress with a sword. She looked up at me with something between lust, terror, and worship. I put my sword away and yanked the dagger free. I took a deep breath. 

She mounted a horse after a while and I did as well, feeling increasingly dizzy. For all my bravado, the wound hurt like Oblivion fires licked at it. She reached over, causing me to jump and shoot her a look. She healed it and withdrew quickly. 

"Thank you." I said after a moment. She smiled and looked down at her horse then back at the road. 

"You're attractive when you're... filled with rage." She said quietly, grinning. I raised an eyebrow in question and looked at her. She smirked and laughed a bit, embarrassed and trying to hide it.

"And you're sexy when you're scared. Took everything I had not to get on the ground and take you right there." She blushed and I continued, "I was going to have you ride my face until you were screaming and waking all sorts of forest life." She looked away. I didn't realize an Altmer's skin could get so red. "Later." I winked as soon as she looked over, causing her to squeak and look back at the horse. 

When we arrived at the camp I was welcomed with praise. No one said a word to Niren, luckily. 

"Herlaith Silver-Blood." One man nearly bolted up to me before bending his knee and lowering his head. He removed his helmet. "It's an honor." 

"Stand." I said, eyeing him. "Tell me your name."

"Krassus Ember-Eye." I was almost startled when he made eye contact. I see how his family got the name. His eyes were red as fire and twice as cruel. A jagged scar crossed his mouth as it twitched into a sheepish smile. 

"The name is that of an Imperial." I said, watching him carefully.

"Aye, and that I am. I hail from the Imperial City. That does not deplete my devotion to the Stormcloaks." He nodded up at me, almost frightened to make eye contact. 

"May I ask why you left?" Others were watching. I could tell he was not popular among his peers. Him and Niren would get along quite well. 

"Of course, Madam Silver-Blood, I left because of the ever increasing rate of Thalmor. I abandoned my family for this cause." 

"I see." I paused and watched him glance at the amulet and the ring. At least, that's where he was  _probably_ glancing. He blinked and looked up at me. "You have heard of my name, tell me how. And... never address me as 'madam' again. It is General Herlaith Silver-Blood, or simply General Silver-Blood." 

"Right, apologies." He cleared his throat, nervously looking about. "Our fathers were friends. I was betrothed to one of your relatives in Bruma, before they left to Skyrim."

Ah, I almost forgot we had family everywhere. It's something you forget when you rule over them and rarely do they speak to you. I would have to remember to address that issue in time.

"I see. Show Niren," I motioned towards the elf who looked like she was standing on a branch above hungry wolves. It was very likely that she was. "To my tent."

"Your... tent?" He looked up at me again, then understood. "Right away, General Silver-Blood." He scurried off with Niren in tow. 

I looked around at the men who were gathered around, watching me. I felt the need to prove myself. A few took off their helmets to get an unbridled look at me. I narrowed my eyes before raising my voice to speak.

"I have been informed that before, you had no General to command you here." My voice was loud and condemning. "You will not act like you do not. From here on out, you listen to me, and my orders, and the only one who is above me, is Ulfric Stormcloak himself." Many of them scoffed, others looked terrified. "And if you cross me, if you betray me, or the cause, your head will be on a pike right next to the fire. Your bones will be kindling." The ones who scoffed now gave me their attention. "I am Herlaith Silver-Blood of Markarth, and you all answer to me." I looked at them once more. Each of them was frightened. I felt how I did when I was with the Forsworn, standing atop a cliff, overlooking everyone. My heart was hammering from excitement. I dismissed them and turned to my tent. I stood over the table with a map and markers of our holds. I looked down at it and found myself leaning over it, similar to the rest of the Generals. Niren was seated near me. I took a deep breath. My life was changing beneath my fingertips. 


	11. Mist of Falkreath

"General Silver-Blood! Come quick!" Krassus burst into the tent. I sat up, pulling the blanket over Niren's still naked body and narrowed my eyes.

"Do you have any idea as to the time? Are you blind, Ember-Eye?" I hissed, moving off the bedroll and throwing on my armor. "Someone better be in trouble for you to rouse me this early."

"It is much worse." He said. I saw death in his eyes, as if it were breathing down his neck. "Please, quickly!" He ran back out and I followed him at the same pace. There were five dead soldiers.

"By the Nine..." I let my jaw fall open at the sight. They had been roasted alive, yet dripping with water. "How did this happen?" I approached and ran a finger over a cooked soldier. Blood and water left a streak across the glove. I stared at it. "Steam. They were roasted by steam." I cringed outwardly at the thought. Their faces were contorted still, eternally screaming in agony. "Who did this?" I rose my voice and turned to my soldiers. They were shaking and stammering.

"T-The Mist of Falkr--reath," One braved enough to answer. 

"Explain this to me."

"There are rumors about a man who can kill people with steam... Some say he is with the Dark Brotherhood, others say he is a dragon."

"A dragon?" I stared at the men. What sort of dragon would kill five soldiers, and not the entire camp. "No, this is the work of man, mer or beast." I looked around.  "Are you all so frightened by this?!" I yelled. Some shook their heads. "You are behaving like milk-drinking Imperials! Shaking in your boots at something you've never seen before! You are Stormcloaks, and I expect you to act like it." I said harshly. "Get me a shovel, Krassus." I looked over to speak to him. He ran for one. "And anyone with their Nordic pride still in tact, grab one as well. Although their passing is sad, we must properly send them to Sovngarde." A few soldiers ran off and came back with soldiers. Another grabbed a cart and began loading the five bodies into it. After the third corpse splattered down into it, he lost his last meal onto the ground. I was cruel, but not heartless. I looked away, to leave him some sort of dignity. 

"G-General Herlaith..." A woman came up to me. "I have seen the Mist. He is mer, like you said. An Orc." I stared for a moment. Krassus handed me the shovel and I kept it beneath my hand. 

"An orc? Surely you are mistaken," I blinked, trying to imagine an orc that used some sort of magic.

"It's true!" She said, her voice had ceased shaking. "He was as tall as you are with the blackest eyes I've seen. Black as the elf's hair, even!" She referred to Niren.

"Where? I wish to find him." 

"I saw him when I was hunting. I don't remember where it was... He looked right at me before burning down a fox. He used his hands, like a spell."  She explained, demonstrating. 

"I see..." I eyed her. "Go rest. You're shaken."

"I knew one of the men, ma'am." She said, downcast. 

"How could you tell?" I raised the question, glancing at the bodies. She held up her hand and pointed to the ring. "Oh..." I said, a bit taken down. "You have my empathy." I planted a hand on her shoulder. She simply smiled a bit and nodded, stifling her tears. 

I returned to the task at hand. Several soldiers followed the cart as myself and a soldier I hadn't yet learned the name to pulled it. It was an act of respect, not letting an animal take them to their final resting ground. When we were far enough from the camp where we wouldn't smell them from their graves, we dug until day had fallen us. We sat the corpses all in one hole and buried them there. Someone fashioned a headstone, from several rocks stacked atop each other. The woman I spoke to earlier had made a wreath of tundra cotton and left it on the grave. Someone spoke words about the honor of the men and we left. We returned to the camp.

"There you are, there's a letter for you from the Jarl!" A courier ran to me and thrust something in my hands. I fumbled a bit but grabbed it and opened it. Jarl Ulfric, no doubt. I read over it and smirked. A man with blonde enough hair to rival my own approached me and introduced himself as Ralof. 

"Fort Neugrad," I said to myself, then looked up at Ralof. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Round the soldiers, Ralof. I wish to speak to them at once." He nodded and went around the expansive tent. Everyone gathered in front of me and behind the fire. I grabbed a crate of mead and stood atop it, so that they could all see me. Even the Camp's blacksmith was attentive; watching me. 

I cleared my throat and they got silent. You could have heard the flap of a bird's wing. "It has come to my attention that the Imperials have captured and incarcerated our soldiers." I said sternly, looking out over them. "They believe they are doing Skyrim a favor. Are they?!" I yelled now, eliciting a response of yelling and cursing all at once. "Then I think it's time we showed them that we cannot be quelled by them taking a few prisoners!" My eyes were alight with fury and they were hanging onto my every word. "In the morning, we will go to Fort Neugrad, and we will rescue our prisoners," I paused to let them yell back a pleased response. "We will take their fort!" I left them hanging again, letting them scream. "We will take their lives!" Again. "We will take back Falkreath Hold!" Again. The scene in front of me could best be described by a bear, leading rabid wolves to a fight. Not one of them looked frightened now. Every single one shared my fury. 

I let them chatter and yell. They celebrated the news by slapping each other on the back and yelling. Nords, through and through, no doubt. All except Krassus. He stood at the edge of the crowd, eyeing me. I shared his stare for a moment before stepping down from the crate. I returned to my tent and stood over the table, contemplating. He approached, against his better judgement. Niren was perched in her chair, reading. 

"General," He said hoarsely. "You are thinking about searching for the Mist." My eyes shot open and bored into him. How the fuck had he read that?

"I am," I said slyly, "I will bring him to justice for his crimes. He seems Forsworn." What would my luck be that it would be Borkul, and all I had to do was wink and tell him to go back to the Reach? I would never be that fortunate, and somewhere within me, I knew I was in over my head. 

"That he does. Is there anything I can do to aid you?" 

"Aye..." I said, looking back at Niren then the table. "I want you to go hunting for him." I straightened my back and approached a dresser, grabbing something from my trunk. It was a ring. I looked back at him, hesitant. "You should wear this. I got it off the corpse of a Forsworn. I learned that it is Hagraven bone. If he is Forsworn, then he will not attack you. But you should not go in that." I motioned at his armor. He slipped the ring on his thumb, and jumped when it constricted to fit. 

"This thing is evil." He said, staring down at it.

"It is." I nodded. "Go now. Do not return until you have at the least word of his whereabouts, at the most, his head." With my words, he left. I stared down at the table. It was a good sight to see when contemplating. I understood why Galmar did it so much. I eyed the map of this hold carefully. There was a marked Imperial camp. I would make sure to wipe it out quickly. My eyes glanced at a large body of water. Lake Ilinalta. I looked at the proximity of it to the Fort and our current camp. 

"Niren!" I snapped my head up with an epiphany. "Fetch Krassus! Quickly!" I grabbed my sword belt and strapped it on, pulling the bear hood up and leaving the tent.  She ran out, looking around and running in one direction. "Fuck!" I cursed. He was gone, but at least Niren seemed to be able to follow him. I glanced at Ralof and nodded him over. "Watch after the camp--I will be back before dawn. I have to attend something urgently." He nodded solemnly. I ran after Niren. 

 


	12. In The Depths of the Lake

"Niren!" I called ,running as fast as I could where I had seen her headed. After a while of running, I picked up on a trail left by the lithe elven girl, that didn't quite match up. It was full of broken branches laying askew on the ground and large, prowling, paw prints. That's when I snapped. A bear or a werewolf was stalking her. I ran faster, heaving, left thigh cramping from the creaking that came from my leg. The spell was wearing off. "Niren!" I called again.

I looked around, letting out a string of curses at my leg, at the situation, then picked up the trail again and began running. I sprinted at full speed and quickly enough, was greeted with the shore of the Lake. I looked around and distantly saw two large figures brawling. I ran over, following Niren's trail until both creatures abruptly stopped and turned towards me. "Shit." I cursed again, realizing what I had walked into. I saw two large werewolves, ripping each other apart one moment, then sizing me up, the other. I took a step back and one lifted his head to sniff the air, then began growling at the other. 

The one that had been growling charged for me. I froze, my legs locked. It pounced on me and the rest was a blur, but only for a moment. I screamed like I hadn't before. This screamed ripped my throat and ravaged my lungs as it escaped me. The other ran over and through the snarling wolf off of me. I scrambled to my feet and dove into the lake. I hadn't a clue why, but I thought it would be the safest option. Until I swam so far down that the night's pale light was stifled by murkiness. I panicked and made to swim back up, only to hand grab me. I glanced down but was unable to see anything, until I felt a cord wrapping around my throat. It was so tight that I gasped, and much to my surprise, could breathe. I paused, breathing the water before glancing down and squinting until I recognized the cord. It was Argonian craftsmanship. Must have had an enchantment to allow me to breathe while it was around me. Hands once again grabbed me and spun me around.

I stared at the man--mer--Orc in front of me. His eyes were black as sin, then I realized who grasped me. I let rage grasp me. 

"Yyyeou!" I screeched. My words were covered by a hand and he watched my reaction then recognized my armor. I fought him as much as I could but he dragged me further into the lake. I saw creatures of nightmares swimming about, but he seemed not to mind. The orc drug me towards what looked like a latch. He opened it and pushed me through, that's when I realized it was a cavern we were in. I swam towards the light and surfaced from the water. He did as well, pulling a common kitchen knife and jousting it at me until I backed up. 

"You killed my men." I watched him with fury dripping from each word.

"I did." He nodded. He seemed indifferent. Bastard.

"...Why?" I pulled hair out of my face.

"I wanted to." He snarled, causing one of his tusks to twitch upwards, in what might have been a grin.

"And... I suppose you plan to kill me now, hm? A final 'fuck you' to Ulfric?"

"Of course not." He snorted with laughter. "If I aimed to kill you, I would have done it last night, when I stood over you and your elf." I felt the cold of the cavern now. I had to stop myself from shivering. "I saved you." He noted, wringing water out of his hair. I noted how long it was briefly before making eye contact again.

"Mist of Falkreath, then?"

"So it seems, sweetheart."

"And I suppose then, you saved me out of the goodness of your heart." I rolled my eyes. "What do you want? Money? Political Gain?"

"Hm... good question. I understand you're planning to attack a fort, tomorrow." I watched him talk and hauled myself out of the cold water. 

"Do you plan to kill more of my men?"

"No, no. I'm done for now." He nodded, doing the same and walking over to make a fire in a makeshift Hearth. He pointed to a chair and I sat, removing my wet armor. "Cold, huh?" He glanced then back to the fire he was kindling.

"Yeah. Mostly just the leg." I looked down at my thigh after removing my boots.

"Mechanical..." He whirled around, staring. He approached and knelt and grabbed my leg.

"Hmph. Feeling me up so soon, Mist?"

"Yeah, yeah." He growled. "What happened to... make this happen." 

"Oh... long story." I dimissed him.

"You're not leaving just yet." He said harshly. "I want to know." I raised an eyebrow at him. He looked up at me then back at the leg, running a thumb over the area of a thigh that turned into the leg of metal. 

"Fine..." I hissed down at him then leaned back, letting him examine the leg. Why was I so relaxed around the man who roasted five soldiers with steam. "I was running from Markarth. To join the army when I ran into a group of Thalmor who'd been sent to kill me." I glanced down to find his unsettling eyes boring into mine. "I killed the two guards quick enough, but the wizard got me. I threw all I had at her, but we both were gonna die... So I saved her and she saved me."

"That's the elf you fucked last night." He watched intently. 

"Yes--her name is Niren, stop calling her elf. It's disrespectful." I jerked the leg to get his attention. He growled in response but nodded. "She brought me to Jarl Ulfric. When I woke up she was on her knees, clutching me like the most precious thing in her life. A while later I woke up without use of both of my legs. I rescued her from the dungeon.." I held myself at the memories. "She was cold.. and shaking... she didn't recognize me at first. They raped her, beat her, mistreated her." 

"I'm sorry for both of you." He said quietly. "She is beautiful."

"Aye. The most beautiful thing in my life. The only light I have sometimes. For all my bravado and seductive charm, she's the one reason I keep moving sometimes. She's why I'm a Stormcloak."

"Hm?"

"Yes. They agreed to free her if I joined their ranks. Eventually, they warmed up to her and let her join."

"But the leg. How did it get like this?"

"Well, I woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, which was odd, for her. She sleeps like a log and sticks to me like a leech. A pretty leech." I shuttered again. "He took my mobility device. He took Niren. He tortured her for information she might or might not have had about my kidnapped father's whereabouts."

"Oh." He looked a bit surprised. "Then." He commanded me, passive aggressively. 

"Then I pulled my way all the way to where they were... and _stood._  I..."

"You don't have to continue. This story hurts you." He said and laid a hand on mine. I raised an eyebrow. He was getting a bit too smitten.

"I stood and fought him for her. Something happened, and I got Steel Blister in the leg. They cut it off to save my life. Realized that I was useless without and took me back to Markarth to... get this thing."

"I see." He stood up and looked down at her. 

"Why am I so calm?" I finally posed the question.

"I've been leaking a Calm spell into you since I grabbed you from those werewolves."

"Right. I think I'd like to leave now. I don't like the idea of Niren and Krassus being out there with that werewolf... and ... odd looking werewolf." 

The Orc laughed so hard I thought he was going to keel over.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about them." 

I stood suddenly, grabbing him.

"Where is Niren?! Where is my soldier?!" I yelled suddenly. Green light flashed at me, uselessly. 

"They're safe! That wasn't what I meant!" He shoved me back.

"Where?!" I yelled before feeling something hit my head and I slumped against the Orc, unconscious. 


	13. Krassus and Niren and Matak. All Assholes With Secrets.

I woke up in my tent. I shot awake, expecting to see an Orc next to me, or standing near me. I stood up and threw on my armor, running outside. It was still dark.

"Ah, I didn't see you get back, General Silver-Blood." Ralof said, looking up from the fire.

"Get some sleep, Ralof." I calmed down a bit and looked at the dutiful Nord. "You'll need it."

"Aye, thank you." He stood up and stretched before walking back to a tent. I don't know why I hadn't noticed it before, but that boy had an ass to rival Jarl Siddgeir's. I made a mental note before looking around for my little elf. I made my way into the woods, searching for clues as to where she could be. I heard snarling and whipped around, sword drawn.

A werewolf, with blazing red eyes and white fur. I swung at it, only to have my arm grabbed. I panicked and threw fists and feet. One of my rings caught the creature in the snout and tore it open. It lifted me into the air. I kicked it in the throat, struggling, but its claws dug into me. It held me and began to run, in one direction. My mind blanked. 

"What the fuck? Why?" I pried my hand free and swung again with the sword. The wolf dropped me and grabbed the sword, glaring at me. "This isn't fuckin' right, here." I pulled a dagger and kept the wolf at a distance. He growled again and looked over his shoulder. He snarled before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder. This bitch was cognizant. He knew what he was doing. I saw another werewolf, completely black. That's when some crazy ass idea clicked into place. "Holy shit that's Niren." The words left my mouth before I realized they had. The white wolf ran away from the charcoal one with gold eyes. "Fucking shit." I cursed and swore I felt the wolf beneath me laugh. "Put me down!" I drove the dagger into his shoulder and he howled, stopping before ripping it from my hands and continuing to run. He ran until dawn had crept up. Then he stopped and looked behind him. Niren was laying on the ground, naked. "Put. Me. Down. Now." I gripped the wound I made earlier until he complied, then I ran over to Niren.

"Herlaith, what are you doing out here?" Niren pushed herself up from the ground. Her pupils were dialated and she looked like she couldn't quite breathe. I stared for a moment, unsure what to do, but kneeled next to her. "What am I doing here?" She sat up and covered herself.

"General Silver-Blood, Niren, there you are." I heard Krassus's voice.

"You damned dog!" I yelled and stood up. As if I needed more evidence he was gripping his shoulder and bleeding from eye to nose. I smirked.

"Ah... yes, don't tell anyone. I mean, you won't, because of her." He motioned towards Niren, who blushed and hid behind me. I looked him up and down.

"How come you're dressed and she's not?"

"Oh, should I change?" He grinned and laughed at his own joke.

"Excuse you," My eyes narrowed and it looked like I had slaughtered someone in front of him, judging by the look on his face.

"Apologies, General Silver-Blood." He looked down and tossed Niren's armor in front of her. She scrambled to put it on, face redder than blood. I helped her up.

"We have business to get to. Then," I looked between them, "You're going to tell me why you two... you know."

Niren nodded, scurrying to camp. Krassus followed her. I noted how he was a bit too distracted by her for my liking but decided to dismiss it for now. 

The men were rallied in front of the dead fire, ready for battle. Ralof stood in front of them. Niren joined my side and Krassus joined the crowd. 

"I have gotten details of the Fort's structure and overall integrity." I spoke up. Like dogs to their master, they all turned their heads to give me their unbridled attention. I grinned. "It seems that the Imperials believe themselves to be safe, up there in those towers." The crowd yelled something slightly incoherent. "I will take this group." I motioned towards one of the groups. "We will find a way in that is, slightly sneakier. And free the prisoners." I looked to another. "Ralof, you will wait with that group," I demonstrated. "Near the main gate, but out of sight." 

"Finally, Ember-Eye, you will take that group, and wait for Ralof's to charge. Once they are inside, you will follow up." 

They nodded. 

"Let's move!" I yelled and started walking. Niren was by my side. There was a horse that had been mine waiting for me, but it hardly seemed fair to ride when my men had to walk. We made our way to the backside of the fort. Surprisingly, the rest of the soldiers behind me weren't as clunky and loud as I imagined, but weren't nearly as sneaky as I was. Niren stayed just behind me. We crept inside and silenced the guards. Our soldiers were waiting quietly but hopefully. We got the cells open and handed them swords and pieces of armor we could find. 

"Niren, go give the signal." I nodded towards her and she left outside. I heard the fireball crack in the air, then began to rush through the fort, screaming and chopping down Imperials where they stood. It wasn't long before we were outside. The killing and slaughter lasted for hours. It was afternoon before every last one of them was dead. The men looked defeated as the Imperials. I nodded to Ralof to rally them again. They drug themselves up and gathered around, all the part of loyal Nords. I was shocked, to say the least. I stood up in front of all of them, this time, on no crate. They looked up. In some I saw regret, anguish. 

This war, fought with all the anger and bravado of a stallion, was still a civil war. I can imagine that most of them ended up killing people they knew, perhaps brothers or friends. 

"Usually, I would have some sort of speech in order for you." I saw some of them cringe. "Not tonight." I said softly, but loud enough for them to hear. "You've done well, you've fought for Skyrim. Rest. Drink." I saw some of them sigh in relief. "But be on your guard, just like in the camp." I turned and left. Someone had brought my horse. Or perhaps it followed, but mine and Niren's were waiting for us. I mounted and she followed suit. We rode back towards the camp, leaving the fort with Ralof and Krassus.

"Tell me now, no one is around." I spoke softly, tired, yet oddly unaffected by my previous slaughter. She was the same, but for an exThalmor, I supposed it was normal for her, to kill people. 

"Well, you know most of it. I'm a werewolf." She said, unsure. "I do my best to stifle the beast... but she always comes through. When you sent me 'hunting' for Krassus... she took it litterally. He smelled like prey, or a mate, I couldn't tell." She was blushing. I eyed her but then looked back at the road in front of us. "You should thank him. When I'm like that, I don't have control of myself." She stared at me.

"Aye, that was obvious." I glanced around us. "He smelled like a mate, hm?"

"It wasn't me--it was the wolf--we're separate beings!" She immediately deffended.

"I don't mind, Niren. If he smells like a mate, me getting all bothered over it isn't gonna change that. Just don't act upon those feelings, if you can." I eyed her then stared back at the road quickly. "Got feelings for you." I muttered, causing her to stop her horse and stare at me.

"I... I thought.." She stammered.

"I know what you thought!" I hissed, cheeks growing red. "But they're genuine, okay? I don't expect you to return them. Why would you? I'm a fuckin' stormcloak and definitely some sort of whore or harlot." I shook my head. "Don't let my feelings hold you back, Niren."

She simply stared at me, before motioning to her horse to pick up his pace to keep with mine. She said nothing until we got back to the camp. As if my heart and head needed more strain, that arrogant orc parading as the Mist of Falkreath sat in front of a blazing fire. He looked up and smiled. That's right. That asshole fucking smiled. I hopped off my horse, storming over, hand on the hilt of my sword, but faltered and almost fell back when his hand shot up. He laughed. 

"Don't play around like that!" I growled, after regaining my balance.

"Don't swing that dull metal around." He snarled and watched Niren as she came to my side. 

"What are you doing here, Mist? Why?"

"I knew you'd return, and not your men." He glanced behind me and nodded, as if to show me I didn't have my soldiers at my back.

"Yes, okay, why do you want to see me?" I stared, hand planted firmly on a cocked hip. A few years ago I did that as a sort of... alluring sign that I was annoyed, but it grew into habit. 

"I get lonely under the lake." He smiled again.

I huffed and motioned for Niren to sit down with me. I sat on the opposite side of the fire from him.

"Tell me, where did you learn to... you know..." I struggled with trying to figure it out myself.

"Cook people?" He raised an eyebrow. 

"That, yeah. I didn't expect and orc to be a magic user." I said earnestly. 

"That's a bit racist, don't you think?" He seemed to scoff. "Look at your lover." He held his hand out towards Niren. "Former Thalmor fucking a Stormcloak. Look at her hair and facial features--she's got Redguard in her for Azura's sake!" 

"Hey! You shut your fucking tusked mouth! Don't bring that up you shit licker!" I stood up. If it weren't for my earlier confession of feelings for Niren, she would have grabbed my hand, but now she was uncertain with contact. "You don't have to respect me--but you  **better** respect her!" I hissed and sat back down when he looked properly berated. 

"Fine, fine. To return to your earlier question then." He calmed himself down. "I'm a Priest of Azura. As if it weren't obvious." He said like I should have known. "I've had this power all my life. I use it to kill in her name."

"My men... what did they do?" I asked carefully.

"One was a... practioner of the ideals of Molag Bal. One was a pedophile. One was a rapist. One blackmailed a woman into marrying him, then drugged her so much she thought she had feelings for him. One, unfortunately saw my face and planned on screaming." He almost looked guilty. 

"The first one, you couldn't just say rapist?"

"He wasn't _just_ a rapist, Herlaith." He spat. "He helped smuggle slaves from country to country. He believed the Khajiit to be a lesser race so to the point, that they were supposed to be slaves. It is obvious that Azura would have issues with that. I'm sure you know about Azura and the Khajiit." He nodded dismissively, and I pretended like I did. Admittedly, when father had hired a tutor for me, while I learned much, most of the time I was screwing him on the desk. 

"Right." I snapped myself out of my fond memories. "Then, I have ... no quarrels with your deed. Maybe except for the last one." I said hesitantly. Niren seemed indifferent, but at this point, I wasn't sure if she even had morals regarding murder and killing. I suspected her to be a damned necromancer, for fuck's sake!

"That pleases me." He gave me a genuine smile.

"So, may I know your name?"

"Matak. I'm from Bangkorai." He said and I visibly lit up.

"I've been there! By the Nine, I used to visit!" 

"I know, Herlaith."

"Shit, is that how you knew my name?" 

He nodded and I grinned then paused, eyeing him.

"How do you know me?"

"That uppity bitch that visited occasionally with her father to do business with a Black-briar that was very, very far from home." He said honestly and I nearly jumped.

"That was definitely me!" I grinned. 

"Yeah. I say uppity bitch, but I remember... I'd say I was 83 at the time. You saw me in an ally and gave me flowers that you bought from a girl. You were so young. I only thought you an uppity bitch because that permanent smirk and the fact you were daughter of the Silver-Blood." Fuckin' shit, did he say 83?

"Orcs only have a lifespan of 80-100. You're near the end of your life, but... what the fuck, Matak? Not even grey hair? That's just not fair to the rest of us."

"Azura lifted the Curse upon orcs for myself. I can now live up to... I'd say about as long as an Aldmer, if I don't get too volatile or sick." 

To this, Niren quirked an eyebrow, then it hit me, I was probably a baby to these two. 

"Niren, how old are you?" I glanced over. She seemed to blush, then brush a bit of hair out of her face. 

"Only 120. I have a long life ahead of me." 

"Fuck, are you shitting me? That's my damn lifespan. You've probably outlived lots of Nords, how do you even stand me?"

"I have no idea how I stand you." She grinned and laughed. It was good to see her like that, but it made me wonder how long she'd been living in Skyrim, and how she played in the cave 'as a kid' where corpses were...

I looked back at Matak, "You're good company." I said politely. "But I would ask you to excuse my soldiers until this war is over." I spoke with a serious edge to my voice.

"I might." He glanced behind me and stood up. "I must be off then, don't want to miss dawn." He left abruptly.

I watched him, mind racing but took a deep breath. Held it until my lungs burnt and slowly exhaled.

"I need skooma." I said, only half-joking and lying down on the ground. 

"I have none, dear." She looked down at me with a half-grin. 

"I should hope not, might have to punish you for keeping it in the camp."

"I might like that." She shot back with a toothy-smirk that made me blush. 

I cleared my throat and stood up. What had gotten into her? Whatever it was, I kind of hoped it happened more often. 

"Sit down, Herlaith." She said softly. I immediately complied, looking at her. "You said earlier that you had feelings for me."

"A-Aye. That I did." I cleared my throat, staring at the fire.

"I'm sorry to say that... I don't have them, per se." She tilted her head, letting her wild hair fall onto one shoulder. "But I think I'm starting to develop them. Your constant flirtation certainly helps." She giggled a bit then fell silent. "You smell like a mate too, you know. You always have. Even when you threw that hunk of metal you call a sword at me" She leaned against me and buried her face against my neck. I smiled down at her, finding myself unable to look away, then her comment hit me.

"Why does everyone keep insulting my sword?" I laughed.

"It's ugly. And dull. And scratched." She stared down at it. "Not at all reflective of its owner--look at mine." She pulled hers from her waist and sat it across our laps. "It's gold, for one. The rays of Auri-El, that happen to be blotched out by black dye." She ran a thumb over it. "The sharpness of it." She drew blood from her skin. "The way it moves silently through the air, even when swung at high velocities." She grinned a bit. "The way red covers it and glides off of it, never a stain, never a blemish that I do not allow." 

"That's..."

"Amazing?"

"Pretentious." I laughed a bit. "But accurate. I suppose my blade's the same then. A true Nord." This time, she laughed.

"Stubborn and rather dull?"

"A true Nord." I laughed again. 

"I'm glad to have you, Herlaith." She said with a smile. "You and I are one in the same. Both raised to believe racial superiority. Tell me, what do you believe?"

"I believe that no mortal race should be superior because of lifespan or violent history. Or how well they survive in the fuckin' cold ass climate." I said honestly.

"That's one of the things I like about you, my Silver-Blood." She put an arm around my shoulders. Only around her did I feel short as a Breton or Bosmer. "You know that no mortal can be supreme." I opened my mouth to question what she meant, but instead, decided that she was an odd character. I ignored the statement. Some part of me didn't want to know why she said that. 


	14. Second Camp

“Let’s get these boy’s supplies back then.” I coughed, to quickly clear the ominous atmosphere and stood up. I began to load crates of healing potions, food, mead, and miscellaneous personal items onto two carts. I thought it amazing how the entire camp compacted into the two of them.

The entire time I was working I felt Niren’s eyes on me like a brand.

“Ogling, my dear?” I turned to glance over my shoulder. The stare I was met with was ferocious--heated, to say the least, and as if her being a werewolf wasn’t enough, she looked feral. She then grinned that innocently deceitful grin.

“Of course I am.” She said, struggling to lift a barrel of vegetables. I helped her then followed alongside my horse as we made our way to the acquired fort. If Ralof and Krassus didn’t do a good job at keeping it… I’d make sure there were two less soldiers on the way back, once this war was over.

However, I wasn’t disappointed. When we returned the dead had been buried, fires had been quelled, and everyone seemed back in spirits, though many were still asleep.

“You’ve returned!” I heard Ember-Eye nearly yell, running to Niren. I forced a smile on my face as best I could and approached Ralof. As soon as I was sure Niren couldn’t see me, it fell abruptly. It shouldn't have hurt to see him so happy to see her. I should follow my own words, and let her be happy, but I wanted to have her all to myself. 

“Ah, General Silver-Blood. I’ve taken the liberty of setting up your war room.” He said gingerly. I nodded. “This way.” He led me into the fort, which, surprisingly had been cleaned and well lit, and kept that way even after our siege.

“What of the Imperial corpses?”

“Burned, General. As well as some of our own.” He noted grimly. “Falkreath hold i _s_ a graveyard… you wouldn’t believe how many corpses we dug up… Had to burn so many.”

I shuddered and made a mental note to send for a Priest of Arkay. I may not have been the most religious person, but that didn’t matter when restless spirits were about. If they were pissed, then they were pissed.  

“Ralof. Send word to the Jarl of our success.” I said suddenly. “And a list of the dead.” Pausing, “The five soldiers that were… previously murdered… put them in the _same list.”_ I said quietly. He nodded, understandingly.

“Is there anything else you need, General?”

“You to rest, soldier.” I smiled briefly then turned and walked to the table with the map. “Thank you.” I said briefly. He looked shocked for a moment but exited. I can’t imagine that Galmar had been polite. Poor boys.

“There you are.” Niren popped her head in the door, running over to the table and plopping down in a nearby chair.

“Yes. I think you’re safe here, though, Niren.” I didn’t turn to look at her. I was blushing, so I kept my head down. “You don’t have to stay by me. They know my fury.”

“I know.” She said coyly. I let a it of hair fall in front of my face. I was blushing! Ha! I didn’t think I could to this magnitude! Over what? The fact she wanted to sit in here and watch me plan. There were thousands of interesting things she could do, and she favored to sit there and observe me. I couldn’t tell if it was endearing, creepy, or… like a predator, stalking their prey. I don’t know why I thought of it like that. It must have been residual hesitancy over the whole werewolf thing. I wouldn’t get used to it. That’s when I remembered.

“Necromancer.” I said without thinking.

“I.. what?” She looked me in the eye instead of at my ass. “What?” She repeated.

“You’re a necromancer.” I said after making sure we were alone. Even then, I hardly whispered it. She was an elf, I’ sure those ears could hear it.

“I… what makes.. you think that?”

“You played in a cave full of corpses. You aren’t phased by death. ‘Mortals’. You said it like you weren’t one, Niren!” I hissed. “I’m not one to judge, but this is one of those things I need to know.--And you’re way too good at that necromancy spell for my leg.”

“You got me. I resurrect corpses.” I said, indifferently.

“I don’t know what to do with that.” I admitted, looking back down at the table. I barely heard her move before her hands were on me, wrapping around my belly. She buried her face into my neck. I felt a shiver.

“You don’t have to do anything with it, Herlaith.” She said softly. “It’s of no concern. I only practice on bandits. Used to, even. Not much practice as of late.”

Oddly enough, I found myself unable to care that my false-lover was a necromancer-werewolf. I actually laughed.

“Damn, Niren, what’s next? Daedra? Aedra? Don’t tell me you’re Dragonborn!” I laughed so hard my ribs hurt. I think it was a nervous laugh, but I couldn’t tell.

“Perhaps. We’ll see, in time.” She cut in front of me and hopped up on the table between my arms. I went deathly still, staring up at her. She wrapped her lengthy arms around my neck and leaned in for a kiss. I leaned into it and let my hands find her waist. 

“General Herlai--oh shit--I’m sorry--I--” I heard a man’s voice where the door was and felt Niren giggle against my lips. I growled.

“Damn him.” I huffed, stepping back. “I should see what he wants.” I sighed, eyeing her as she sat upon the table. “And I’ll certainly be back as soon as I can.” I noted and left, closing the door behind me, before recovering my eternally pissed off grimace.

“I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.” The man was red in the face and looking at the ground.

“You could have walked in on worse. What’s the issue?” I dismissed and he only seemed to grow more shy. How annoyingly amusing.

“The Imperial camp has… disappeared. Some people are saying that the Mist of Falkreath did it. I thought you ought to know.” He said quietly. I stared at him for a moment then looked down at my sword.

“Thank you for this information.” I said solidly before looking at the entrance of the fort. I knew I’d have to go meet that smug asshole. He did it to get my attention, no doubt. Who else could single-handedly wipe out an Imperial camp? They might have been weak, but not easy to quell, by any means. “Find me Krassus Ember-Eye.” I said quickly before returning to my war room. I threw open the door and marched over to Niren. I grabbed her and stole a kiss before she could realize what was happening.

“Gotta go. Want you to stay here. If you feel threatened… flee, but please come back once you’re sure I’m here. I shouldn’t be gone more than a day… shouldn’t.”

She simply nodded, still a bit shocked. I turned on heel, colliding with the short imperial man. I grabbed his shoulders to stop him from falling and looking him in the eye.

“Whoops.” He held his hands up. “Apologies. Shall we go then?”

“Aye.” I made my way out to a horse. I looked back. “Oh, I forgot.” I stifled a sigh of annoyance as I got down from the horse. “Feet then.” He looked at me, confused.

“As long as you didn’t have the thing running I could probably keep up.”

“‘Probably’. I don’t need to ride the horse, Krassus.” I shook my head. “Come on.”

He grinned before following.

“Beside me.” I said firmly.

“What?” He faked innocence, trotting up to my side instead of behind me.

Once we were far enough away from camp, I added. “What is it with wolves and my ass?”

“Can’t help it. I admire it, and the beast.. you smell like prey.” He said, smirking.

“‘Prey’, Huh? I ought to smack some damn sense into the thing, thinking he can take me.” I puffed up my chest and shoulders, mocking the ‘nord’ ways. He laughed.

“Oh, not that kind of prey, dear.”

“Oh.” I blinked and stared then looked down at the amulet. “Niren said I smelled like mate to.”

“That’s… a good way of describing it.” He said, looking towards the amulet. “What’s that?”

“Gift from a friend.” I said too quickly.

“Uh-huh. Is your friend a Daedra?”

“Fuck you.” I said instinctively. I wasn’t truly mad, but this man knew far too much. “How would you know? Why is everyone so annoying mysterious?” I growled. “Ugh. Werewolves.”

“Okay, okay, no need for the third degree, General.” He surrendered.

“Stop talking for today.” I said coldly as we neared the Imperial camp. Sure enough, that smug orc. Everyone I’ve come to terms with recently had ways of pissing me off. I heard Krassus sniff the air and stifled a laugh. He looked over at me, eyes afire.

“Shut it.” He said quickly. I wondered if he meant to sniff the air?

“About time. Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” Matak stood up, noticing us. “The albino wolf.” He nodded to Krassus. Krassus bowed his torso parallel to the ground.

“Don’t do that.” The orc hissed with laughter.

“So. You are?” Krassus straightened up again.

“Mmmm….” He thought on it, locking eyes with me. “Call me Matak.” Thank the Nine. I wouldn’t know how Krassus would react to… the other thing.

“Nice to meet you.” He smiled pleasantly. It made me very, very uncomfortable. He was far too versed with political plays for a common soldier. His existence pissed me off. It seemed like the more I found out about him, and even about Niren, the more there was that I didn’t know. It was like falling. He sensed this and shot me a grin. Smug bastard.

“I trust he’s not an issue so I’ll get to the matter at hand.” Marak walked over to me and pushed the bear-hood-thing back so he could see my face. He narrowed his eyes. “You know why I wiped the out?”

“I do not.” Despite his almost intimediating actions, I didn’t falter. “Tell me.”

“I did it to get you out of here.” He smiled rudely and planted a tender kiss on my head. I furrowed my brow and stared up at him. “Azura has commanded me to… act.” He glanced over at Krassus. “I want you out of the hold, Herlaith.”

“I don’t know what to say to that…” I said earnestly, looking back to my wolf-friend. He had his own confused look.

“Promise you will. I have to act soon.”

“You’re acting oddly.”

“No I’m not.” He retorted, squeezing my shoulders. “Don’t question me, girl.” He growled.

“Fine.” I sighed. “I’ll… see what I can do. What did… Azura command of you?”

“Something just, I assure you.”

“So damn cryptic.” I pulled out of his grasp and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. That’s fine. Krassus, we’re leaving.”

Krassus nodded. Matak stared. I turned to him before walking away. I smiled briefly and started on the road.

My soldier watched me for the majority of the way back, but I was lost in thought. Surely though, Ulfric would relocate me as the Hold had been aptly acquired. I was correct. Four days later, I got orders to find myself and Niren in Hjaalmarch.

“I think I’ll miss having another werewolf around that’s not… a pack-type.”

“Pack type?” I glanced over to her. We were treading through the Reach. No one had bothered us so far.

“You know. The whole Alpha-male thing. It’s good to see another werewolf that knows that’s not what Hircine intended.” She spoke haughtily. Probably a Thalmor habit. I eyed her while keeping note of markings I’d seen from the Forsworn. I had half a mind to accidently run into them, on purpose.

“Ah, I see.” I nodded, despite having no idea what she meant.

“Stop looking for that orc-lover of yours.” She jested and jabbed me in the ribs. I jumped, startled.

“What--no--Borkul? Haha!” I laughed nervously. “I.. okay, but he had a nice cock. You can’t blame me.” I shot back with a grin. “About this long.” I demonstrated. She paled.

“By the Nine, how did you survive?” She looked genuinely concerned. I laughed.

“Foreplay.” I looked up at her. She was blushing. She was unreadable between moods.

The rest of the journey was silent, and I avoided Forsworn based on symbols we left and symbols they left. I communicated that we were peaceful and were leaving quickly. They accepted so I left a gold and sapphire ring on an offering rock. Otherwise, next time I try to come through again, they might remember the lack of generosity and only see a Nord.

We made our way to the Hjaalmarch camp. The men there had already gotten word of me. These men were weary, tired, almost dead. I decided to spare them the “I’m in control here” speech. It was one they had already understood. None of them bothered Niren. No one introduced themselves to me, yet they all knew my name. I began to miss Falkreath.

 

 


	15. Hircine and Shit

“Message for you, General Silver-Blood!” A courier ran in the tent then paused when I looked up. “Oh.. Uh… where’s the General?” He spoke more relaxed. I took a deep breath and walked over, picking him by the collar of his tunic and tossing him in front of the camp.

“Right here, you asshole.” My voice was low with exhaustion and annoyance. I hadn’t been to sleep in days, and I wasn’t sure when I last ate a real meal. I walked over and put a heavy boot on his throat. “What is the message?”

“I--um--it’s-uh-- Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak has requested your presence in Windhelm!” He desperately writhed to get out from underneath his certain death. I lifted my foot and immediately walked over to a horse. Niren’s horse had died a few months ago, so she mounted behind me. I rode out of the camp then paused at a roadside sign. I looked back at her.

“Where are we, love?” My voice was so quiet, or perhaps it was loud, I wasn’t certain.

“The Rift, Herlaith.” She looked mildly concerned. I couldn’t quite tell.

“Right, of course.” I looked around. It was nearing Winter, and the Rift was on fire with gold and orange. She reached around me and took hold of the reigns and cast some sort of spell. My mind went blank and I slumped against her.

The next thing I remember was being in our bedroom in the palace. I sat up and threw the covers off. The cold hit me and I yanked them around me, realizing I was naked. Niren stirred and pulled them back, mumbling. I glanced down then ran to the dresser, putting on my armor and a lighting the firepit and a few scones with a spell she taught me.

“I’ll be back, you’re safe.” I muttered, groggily, finding my way out of the room and down the hall. I got a glance at myself in the reflection of a window and almost jumped. I looked awful. Actually, I looked fine, just… Forsworn. You know, wild hair, dark eyes. I sighed and tried to tame my hair down, but gave up and entered the war room where Galmar was. He was just as shocked at my appearance.

“I didn’t realize I was working you _that_ hard.” He laughed. “But you have been doing more than any of the others.” He stopped laughing, clearing his throat and looking back at the table.

“Mm.” I nodded, walking up the table instinctively. “Tired.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” He stood back and let me sit on the table. “Your father is taking over for now. Although… it’s not looking good.” _Good_ , I hoped not.

“What’s wrong?” I crossed my legs and faked concern.

“He’s gone mad… greedy even.” Galmar looked at me. “Ever since he’s gotten back, he’s been volatile. We had to lock him up for a while, but he’s stable enough to lead an army. Perhaps not stable, but he's a good man for strategy. Knows how to lead soldiers into battle.”

“Ah. And what about me, Gal?” He sneered at the pet name and leaned forward, inches away from me, hands planted firmly on the table.

“You’re with me. We’re taking Whiterun next month and we need your arm.” He glanced down, then eyed the amulet. “That’s not part of the uniform.”

“It was a gift. It aids me in battle.” Which was true, but not the sort of battle he was actively fighting.

“Fine.” He didn’t want to argue. His hand found my knee. I glanced down at him.

“Taking liberties, don’t you think, Stone-fist?” His hand immediately drew back, startled at my speaking up.

“Until then, you should… uh…” He stammered as I turned around, slipping my legs between his arms. “You should..” He watched. His eyes were glassy with what I could assume to be the effect of Sanguine’s amulet. His pupils were dilated with arousal. “You should rest and…”

“And what, Galmar?” I dropped my voice lowly and let my hand run down his cheek until it slipped under his chin and guided his gaze up to mine. I felt one of his large hands find my lower back. I smirked and forced him to keep eye contact, and damn, he leaned into it. That’s when I noticed a certain part of him pressed against my leg. The amulet worked far too well. He was more aroused than what could be considered healthy.

His mouth tried to form words, so I leaned in and stopped him from speaking with a feather-light kiss. His breath hitched. He was trembling.

“Herlaith, what are you doing?” I heard my father’s grating voice from the door. I sighed against Galmar’s lips and wiggled away from the man, turning to see father and his glare.

“Only what I’m told, of course.” I spoke confidently. Galmar stammered again.

“We were--just discussing a matter, um, the matter of what she.. um.” He struggled to find words.

“Herlaith. A word.” Father said sternly. I groaned and hopped off the table, walking over to him.

“What? What is it?” I didn’t bother hiding my annoyance. It was like the tutor from the bard’s college all over again. Except Galmar had clothes on.

He grabbed me by the arm and led me into the empty throne room. It was too early in the morning for the Jarl to be there. He shoved me and I stumbled but quickly found my footing.

“You’re seducing him!” He yelled, not bothering to keep his voice down.

“I’m doing only what he asks me to.” I lied, waving my hand dismissively.

“You stay away from Stone-fist!” He hissed. “You are a Silver-Blood, by the Nine, you can’t be slutty!” He scowled.

“I’m not, father. I’m very devoted to Niren, and you’ll find I’m only doing what he tells me. Seeing as how here, he’s in charge and I’m a valiant Stormcloak, so I do what he tells me.”

“That’s horse shit!” He sneered and yanked the silver ring from my necklace. I stumbled and ‘fell’. Galmar quickly came behind me, holding me.

“Thongvor!” Galmar hissed, setting me on my feet and approaching the man. My face reflected fright, but I smirked inwardly. “Stop this! You’re acting out!”

“Do you not see what Herlaith is doing?! She’s always done this!”

“Thongvor!” Galmar grabbed father by his shoulders. “She is not seducing me!” He insisted. I saw dents appear in father’s steel armor where Galmar grabbed and did my best to suppress the smirk.

“Fine, it’s your funeral!” He yelled, shoving Galmar back and disappearing, dropping the ring on the ground. I picked it up and took a deep breath. I glanced back at Galmar, who had returned to the war room. With no one else around, I grinned wickedly and returned the ring to my bosom.

“Herlaith, you’ve returned so soon.” I heard the gravelly drawl of Ulfric. I admit, I missed it while I was gone.

“I have, my Jarl.” I turned to see him walk to the throne and sit down. He still had sleep in his face.

“You have also heard what you will be doing, correct?”

“Yes, my Jarl.” I said and watched as he yawned the narrowed his eyes, assessing me. His eyes caught on the amulet then followed the armor’s contour. Gods, he was worse than Galmar. At least Galmar tried to hide it. Perhaps he felt entitled. I removed the amulet quickly and his eyes snapped back to mine. By the Nine, it wasn't the amulet at all. I felt my heart rate increase, out of fear than anything else. That fixed stare was degrading. This man held my life in his hands.

“Then you’re dismissed.” He finally said after memorizing the shape of my body. I shuffled away, trying to blot out the feeling of his following stare. I took a deep breath when I was out of sight and held the amulet bitingly in my hand. I shuddered and returned to the bedroom. I hated the palace more than I hated the Embassy.

Niren was sitting on the bed, rubbing sleep from her face. I leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head. She mumbled something sweet but incoherent. I turned to the window and watched soldiers train in the courtyard. Suddenly, something reminded me of Krassus and I practically ran down to Galmar, who was still bothered.

“ _Krassus Ember-Eye_ \--where is he?!” I ran in.

“Who--oh, he’s um… why?”

“Tell me.” I asserted myself. He broke.

“He’s missing in action.” He said fearfully. I stared for a moment.

“Ralof, what of him?”

“He’s in Winterhold.”

“Okay, and have you heard anything of.. um.. the Mist of Falkreath?” I felt my throat clenching at the name.

“An odd question.” Galmar snapped out of his stupor and fixed me with an assessing glare.

“Tell me.” I spoke more softly.

“There is no knowledge.”

“He must have attracted some sort of attention.” I said sternly. Galmar lifted an eyebrow.

“‘He’? Do you know the Mist?”

“I--no, I just assumed.. he was male. Oh, nevermind.” I turned and left quickly, returning to Niren and grasping her shoulders, startling her. “Krassus is missing.” I said quietly. She shifted uncomfortably.

“He’s still alive.” She said uncertainly. I stared at her for a moment.

“Okay…” She stiffened with my voice. “And how do you know that?”

“Werewolf thing.” She dismissed quietly.

“I know all about werewolves, Niren. That’s not a thing.”

“I can sense him. He’s alive.” She said sternly. She put a thin finger over my lips to keep me from arguing. “Leave it there, love.” She whispered, eyes flashing yellow. I obeyed against my better judgement. Niren smiled, tilting her head. “Love, what’s wrong? Oh, why aren’t you wearing Sanguine’s amulet?” She pried it from my fingers and put it over my head.

“You… remember that? Didn't he scare you shitless?”

“Of course, dear. Why would I forget Sanguine? Just because he surprised me doesn’t mean I’m frightened or I would forget.” She murmured something I didn’t catch and waved her hand over my head. “I think it’s time, love.”

“Time for.. what..” I felt my body going a bit limp. She closed my eyes and my body stopped moving. I would have panicked, if I hadn’t felt my heart stop. Yet so clearly I was awake.

“Shhh.” Her voice faded. For what felt like hours, I was in the dark, nothingness. I tried to communicate, I tried to feel something, tried to appeal to an emotion, but there was nothing.

Finally I opened my eyes; I sat up sharply.

“Niren!” I yelled. My body was shaking now. She was at my side, we were outside. My blood was rushing.

“Run.” She smirked down at me. Her teeth were sharp and her eyes were bright.

“No.. _no._. Niren..?” I stuttered, trembling. Why was I so frightened?

“Run!” She hissed, grinning wickedly as I shot up, doing my best to run away from her. I entered a forest so thick that the trees were close together, and I barely made it between them. I resolved for scaling one and hopping between branches, putting distance between myself and Niren. I heard her shrill laughter. “Run, my love! Run from me!” She barked her laughter again, running through the trees. I heard her growling--heard her breathing. “Don’t let me catch you!” She yelled, grabbing onto my boot. “Run, Herlaith!” She grinned when my foot slipped out of it. I crumbled and fell from the tree. She jumped on me, pinning me on a giant tree root. She had blood in her teeth. I glanced down to find my shoulder pierced through the armor. My breathing picked up and I screamed.

“Oh, what a sweet sound.” She moaned softly against my neck, taking another bite from me. I did, managing to push her away. She laughed and came after me again.

“Stop! _Niren!_ ” I jumped out of the way, running away again, initiating another chase. But she was faster. She grabbed me with claws. I looked back. Black fur was sprouting from her. I yanked away, tearing my armor’s midsection, and ran.

“Help!” I screamed.

“Don’t do that, love!” She called after me. “I’m not the only one out here!” She laughed, on all fours. I glanced over my shoulder to find her as a wolf. Yet still, that wicked grin. Sure enough, she wasn’t lying. I heard stirring behind a tree and saw a man with a bow and arrow. He aimed it at me and shot. It tore through the boot on my leg and hit metal. I jolted and ran, being careful to zig-zag so that he could not get a clear shot. I heard him screaming. Niren was knee deep in entrails and unidentifiable flesh, yet still he was a live. I saw his heart beating and one bare eyeball glance over at me. I screamed and started to run again.

“Oh he’ll be fine, love!” She held up a clawed paw in concern before laughing again. She jumped at me, ripping the armor from me. I screamed, curling my arms over my face.

“Why are you doing this?!” I cried.

“Because I love you, dear.” She said, voice distorted by her wolf form. “I fell for you, Herlaith dear.” She said again, biting into my shoulder, just enough to tear the flesh, but not enough to do real damage. Her claws were leaving red lines and occasionally bloody ones around my chest. She ripped the breast binding from me and lapped up the blood she left. I struggled enough to finally push her away and run again.

“Stop this! Please!” I begged, tears stinging my eyes. I had my sword. Silver. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I heard two laughters now. One from her, one from someone else. I screamed and ran up a tree, just out of reach.

“Oh, that won’t do! This is a _chase!”_ She huffed, ripping the branch, that I stood on, down. I scrmabled up to find my legs trapped by her claws. She ripped the bottom half of my armor off and paused, running one claw up my thigh. I screamed again. “This is _wonderful,_ love.” She whispered. When I looked up at her she was… elfish again. She smirked. “Better, dear?” She still had claws, that made themselves very known by ripping my smalls and thigh. I cried out again. “What? Don’t like this form?” She shifted. Her damned face changed. Her voice changed, her body as well. She was a dunmer man now. “Oh dear, you’re frightened.” He smirked, lapping blood from my neck and biting into a wound. “This then?” Now Niren was an Altmer man--or woman, I couldn’t be sure without glancing down. “I like this one.” He purred in my ear. “You do too.”

“What are you doing?” I whimpered, staring up at her, him, fuck-- _Niren._

“I changed.” An eyebrow quirked up with his words. “So that I could mark you, properly.” I writhed as soon as the words left his mouth. “I could have done so as a female, but the scent would be weak. This way, any predator, were or not, will stay away from you.” He growled now, clawed hands running up my side. I shuddered and tried to push him off.  “Stop that.” He snarled, biting into the junction of my shoulder and neck. Niren sucked and bit until it was red with blood and pressure. “The chase is over. now you’re mine Herlaith. I’m going to have you until you can’t move.” He hissed again, scratching from breast to pelvis. I screamed.

“Please…” I whimpered. His claws retracted a bit. “Niren..”

“Hush dear. I don’t want to rape you. Let me and I’ll be gentle ...enough.” He whispered against the cuff of my ear. I shuddered and stopped struggling. Fear ran through me quicker than my blood did. His lips met mine, roughly and possessively, holding none of Niren’s usual gentleness and shyness. His hand dipped between my trembling thighs and found what they were searching for. A careful finger brushed against my clit, pausing there to tease before dipping lower and thrusting inside of me. I screamed again, frightened of being mutilated, but it seemed that the previous claws weren’t on that hand. I calmed, and whimpered. I wasn’t sure whether I was scared or aroused, but my heart was threatening to rip from my chest. He buried his face in my neck, just breathing and thrusting his fingers in at a quick rate. “Heh, you’re already wet, Herlaith.” He purred in my ear, cupping one of my breasts. “You really do want this.” He asserted. “When’s the last time you got fucked? I mean, _really_ fucked.”

“I-- _ah!”_ I squeaked as he bit down on my breast and laughed against my skin. I blushed hiding my face with one hand, finding myself absurdly modest. He ripped the arm from my face and pinned it down, growling.

“You haven’t had a rough fuck in a long time. I can tell. You want it, now.” He said, hand leaving me just before I was able to climax. I groaned at my denied pleasure and blushed as his eyes found mine. He grinned. I felt him pressing against my entrance, but before I could fully process what was happening, he thrust inside of me and immediately began to pump into me. I screamed in pleasure, digging my hands into the soft ground. I had expected large, considering that apparently, Niren could control his body’s form, but I hadn’t expected that large. I hadn’t had that large since my days as Forsworn.

I was harshly ripped from my train of thought by the pain between my legs. I reached around Niren and gripped his back, digging fingernails into his shoulderblades. I drew blood, but so did he, returning to the wound he made with his teeth earlier and reopening it. I screamed again, feeling my throat retracting itself with hoarseness. His breath was a laugh against my skin.

“Hoarse so soon, love?” He made eyecontact, smirking.

“Shut up and _fuck me.”_ I hissed, glaring. He complied, thrusting into me harder and without fear of hurting me. He kept a punishing pace up for what felt like hours. There was something to be said with werewolves and stamina.

With a final thrust I felt myself tightening around him, and in a rare instance, we both came at the same time, aiding the orgasm for both of us. He growled in my ear, shifting into the gorgeous woman I recognized as Niren. She was panting over me as she looked down at me. She eyed my body and sat back, stretching.

“I should do that more often.” She smirked, and felt the wounds I left on her back with my fingernails. She grinned again.

“Niren, where are we? Why did you do that? How did you do that?” So many questions crossed my mind. They compiled into one. _“What the fuck?”_

“Oh, fine.” She rolled her eyes and sat on a protruding tree root. “Niren, daughter of Hircine.” She pseudo-bowed, in a mocking sort of way.

“So, a regular werewolf.”

“No. _Daughter_ of Hircine.” She assured me, nudging me to sit up with her foot. “I’m his blood.”

“That’s impossible.” I shook my head. “He can’t be in our world in such ways… right?”

“Yes!” She smiled. “That’s why we’re in his.” She eyed me for a reaction. She got it. I sat there and stared.

“As in… Oblivion--shit, Niren, did you fucking _kill me?!”_ I panicked, feeling dread wash over me.

“Yes, well, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ll live again, just as you were. No necromancy involved.” She waved her hand around, playing with a purple and black spell.  “I just brought you here to mate with. I could have done it there, but… I wanted to chase you and make you scream.” She dismissed the spell and stared at me. I felt another blush creep up my face. “And to meet the Daedric Lord of the Hunt. You had to find out eventually.” She shook her head.

“So.. are you… you know..”

“No and yes, and no, you probably won’t get pregnant.” She answered the unspoken question.

“What do you mean?”

“No, I’m not mortal, yes, I’m mortal.” She sighed. “I have a mortal body, and can die, but not of things as mundane as old age and disease. I must be hunted. Properly hunted.”

“Oh… so… you’re dad’s Hircine.” I still tried to wrap my head around it.

“Yep.” She said simply then pulled me off the ground. “You’re gonna meet him. If he’s pleased with you, he’ll return us to Mundus. If he’s not… well, we’ll find out.” She hugged me and buried her face in my neck, just above her bite. “I’ll stick with you though. Even if we have to run from him.” She seemed worried. “But that’s unlikely.” Her Altmer accent was ever-present. "Let's go then."


	16. Honestly,

Honestly, I don't remember much from meeting Daddy Hircine, as I would come to jokingly call him around Niren. However, I do distinctly remember his face, or lack there of. He had a deer skull instead of a face, which was a lot less frightening in person than in theory. 

"So, this is the mortal that has caught my child's affections in her snare." He spoke, jumping off of a small cliff and walking up to me. He was much taller than Niren. "I can see why," He nodded to Niren. "Good catch."

"Wait, so, am I the predator or the prey?" I found myself blurting out to the fucking Daedric Prince Hircine. 

"Both, perhaps." He let out some sort of giggle. "The same as you see Niren." He nodded again towards his daughter.

"Oh." I just stood there, blinking and looking away.

"I approve, for now," He said with sudden harshness "but I smell on her Sanguine and Clavicus Vile." 

"Hold the fuck up. Clavicus Vile?" I found myself stunned at my informality with Hircine, still trying to comprehend the immense power of the being in front of me. 

"Yesss, both princes of desire."

"Well, she is quite desirable." Niren added, shrugging then coiling an arm around me. 

"Watch yourself, my child." He hissed. "I do not want them having your mortal soul. I don't require hers, however, she will provide you plenty of grief if you are to be separated, I suppose." He waved a hand, indicating towards me. I raised an eyebrow.

"I have no plans of going to Sanguine or Vile." I raised my chin, eyeing the Prince up and down. He tilted his head and reached for me. I simply stood there, giving no inch to this asshole. 

"You've marked her so soon." He turned to Niren, hand on her bite mark. "Is there a reason?"

"Yes. I've seen the way that filthy Jarl looks at her. Perhaps if he gets close enough he will smell your wrath, or worse mine." Niren growled. Hircine laughed.

"You are much like your father." He patted her on the head. "Always so possessive. Yet insistent on not being a pack animal or a lone wolf."

"I'm not a lone wolf! I'm the damned leader of beasts on Mundus!" Niren's grip grew painful on my shoulder. She was growing enraged. "And lest you decide to try to take my place, father, I will stay that way." 

Hircine stood there for a moment, before looking back at me.

"Very well then." He waved his hands and we were in Windhelm, in the bedroom. Niren groaned, plopping down on the bed.

"Blood related or not, that man is infuriating."

"I feel your pain," I sat next to her "just, on a lesser scale."

She sighed in response and pulled me into another tight embrace. She sat her chin on the top of my head and held me there. 

"Hey... if you can control your appearance... why don't you?"

"Oh? I can't do that here. Can't control my urges here either. I'm weakened with power. Ironic." She huffed. "You should... go visit the court wizard." She looked nervous. "I think I got a little carried away. You're bleeding on your shoulder." 

"Heal me mage." I grumbled and wiggled out of her embrace so I could lie down on the bed with my head in her lap.

"Make me do everything, why don't you?" She grinned and ran her hands over the wounds. They immediately sealed. 

"What? Want me to go to that old man, naked, and say 'hey, my lover's a wolf, so if you could kindly heal me, that'd be great'?"

"Maybe not the naked part." She muttered, brushing hair from my face.

"Possessive is right." I felt myself giggling like a maiden. "It's a good look on you." I stared up at her. 

"Submissive is a good look on you." She grinned wildly. I blushed and hid my face in her belly to hide it, holding on like a vice. There was a knock on the door, and without paused, Galmar busted into the door, heaving. He hesitated, taking careful look over the situation. I crossed my legs and gave him an uninterested gaze. I felt Niren growl and she leaned over me, holding my shoulders.

"I heard screaming." He said calmly, prying his eyes away from us. I smirked and looked up at Niren. She was bristling and growing more angry. 

"Yes, you heard screaming." She said lowly. "I made  _my_ lover scream, is that a crime, Galmar Stone-Fist?" Niren spoke harshly. 

"It sounded like... a painful scream." He said, finding himself nervous.

"What we do in here is none of your business, human." 

"It is if it endangers Herlaith, elf!" 

"Oh?" Niren stood up, covering me up with sheets. "I'm suspicious, Galmar, why are you so worried about my Herlaith?" I was grinning from ear to ear and not doing a very good job at hiding it. It was nice to be fought over, I had to admit. And seeing Niren get territorial was one of my favorite past times. 

"Army." He growled. 

Niren stood there for a moment before speaking, "Very well. Know that she is fine. And leave." She was a solid head taller than him, and twice as rude looking. I'd say that was her snooty Altmer face, though, instead of actual anger that Galmar had (not to say that Nords weren't grumpy looking naturally.) Galmar stormed out, mumbling something I could quite hear. I stretched out when Niren turned back to me. Her eyes swept over my body before she pounced, burying her face in my neck, and picking me up. I squealed and laughed and held onto her for dear life. I wasn't used to  people picking me up, due to how bulky of a Nord I was. 

"We should go out into the city, since we aren't required to stay in the palace and have a bit of time." I looked up at her, kissing her on the cheek. She murmured something and nuzzled into my neck again. I hopped out of her embrace and got dressed in the armor. She followed suit and brushed out her hair, sighing. I laced my fingers into her hand and tugged her from the room. We made our way to the market.

Niren immediately walked over to a stand full of enchanted armor and picked up a silver ring with the head of a wolf on it. She glared at it for a moment then stared up at the woman behind the stand who grew uncomfortable.

"You... how did you get this?" Niren's teeth were grit. The woman held up her hands in surrender. 

"I-Someone sold it to me. Why? Is is stolen?"

"Technically no." Niren looked her up and down, upon deciding she was honest, relaxed. "This is the Ring of Hircine. Cursed." 

"Pfff. Cursed? You expect me to believe that? Why? You want to take it off my hands for a discount?" The other altmer glared, nose to nose with mine.

"I want you to give it to me so I can go through the trouble of hiding it.  _Again_." She said harshly.

"I can't do that! If I gave in every time someone said the item was cursed and they were helping me, I'd have nothing to sell!" She said defensively, with as much ire as Niren.

"Then wear it." Niren grinned, inching closer so that her canine teeth were visible to the woman. The woman backed up a bit.

"Fine. I will prove it's not cursed."

"I'll be keeping an eye on you." Niren ended the conversation and returned to me, brow creased.

"What's wrong, love?" 

"First the ring, now I smell... a... dragon." She said quietly, as if she doubted herself. "Let's go back to the palace." She groaned at the thought. As they did, a tiny, plump girl with a skin color neither of them had seen before sheepishly entered the palace. She had the hair of a Redguard, with a shade of black to rival Niren's. Niren raised her chin a bit, sniffing the air. Then her face flushed and she clamped a hand over her mouth. 

"What?" I whispered, frightened now of the tiny Redguard-Breton. Niren began to snicker quietly, she drug me in the hall and leaned towards my ear.

"That girl was marked by a dragon!" She whispered harshly then broke down laughing. "She fucked a dragon!" She whispered again, not wanting a guard to hear. I stood there, staring, then took a peak at the girl who was talking to Jorleif. Niren paused and pulled me back. "Dragonborn." She said quietly and joined me in taking a peak. Niren sniffed the air again and left the palace, only to quickly shuffle in and scurry up to the bedroom. I followed her, curiously. She sat down on the bed, grinning. "Alduin, eh? Sheogorath wasn't lying. Alduin found the Dragonborn. He's infatuated with her! He marked her!" She laughed loudly now, holding her side. 

I felt my own laugh bubbling up in my belly, but it was stifled by disbelief. Alduin the World Eater? The legends? Daughter of Hircine, talking about the Skooma Cat and dragons, and how the fuck would a brown Breton fuck a giant ass lizard with wings. I sat down next to her, laughing now, but then horrified at the thought.

"He stuck his dick in her?!" I grabbed Niren's shoulders, she laughed more at this.

"Oh, calm down, I'm sure it wasn't as a dragon! He's Alduin, for dad's sake! I'm sure he can shift his form as well but still... the thought of the World Eater fucking the Dragonborn..." She giggled then chuckled then laughed genuinely from her belly. This was too much. Before I knew it I was in the palace's throne room again, staring at the girl. She was pretty, squishy looking, and had fresh paint on her shoulders, revealed by her dress. I felt myself eyeing her a bit too long, then quickly averted my gaze. In the past, even as a whore I was loyal to lovers, and Niren was one of them. Despite how pretty she was, I couldn't let her tempt me. Besides, 'marked by Alduin' probably means a similar death as 'marked by Hircine's offspring', which would undoubtedly be a bloody and painful one.

I glanced up at the Jarl--she was  _yelling_ at him. I felt myself grinning more than I ought to have. I couldn't help myself but to let out a quiet "tell him" to which Galmar bumped into my shoulder and approached with an ax in hand. Ulfric glared at her, then made direct eye contact with me. I couldn't stifle a smirk before the thought crossed my mind that he might have been able to smell, or sense, or whatever beasts do to recognize a mark. I stared at him for a while, the thought aching in my mind. I could think of nothing more detestable than going to the same afterlife as him and his unnervingly heated stare. 

By the time I snapped out of my gaze, the colorful girl had turned on her heal and stormed out. I grinned.

"What, Silver-Blood? Is something funny?" Jarl Ulfric nearly spat at her amusement.

"That girl has more ire than I do, angry as a dragon." I giggled, earning myself a glare. "You'll take it from her, but not me, eh?" 

"Stop talking, Herlaith. You should make yourself useful and train." He said harshly. I smirked and sauntered out into the courtyard to do just that. I hate to admit it, but he was right. I needed to train. I relied to heavily on sneaking and Niren to keep me safe. 

So, for hours I stood in front of a training dummy, striking it, swinging at it, and smashing it with numerous weapons. Eventually I felt eyes on me.

"He's been dead for a while, Herlaith." Galmar said with a smug grin. I turned around. 

"And you're not. Let's fix that." I grinned back, mockingly and grabbing two swords. 

"Cocky. I dislike that, Silver-Blood." He said sternly, pulling his ax off his back.

"Let's talk while we spar." I said quickly, lunging at him and slashing. He stopped it with his bracer and pushed me back. I staggered. "That girl from earlier."

"Trouble." He spat on the ground before charging at me. I sidestepped him and brought the pommel of the sword down hard between his shoulder blades. I heard him cough and wheeze. "Reminds me of you."

"So you're attracted to her."

"Maybe." He turned around, eyeing me suspiciously as I dropped my blades and put up my fists. 

"Come on. Be a Nord." I taunted, dropping my center of gravity and putting my fists in front of my face. He mimicked me, putting his ax elsewhere. 

"She has too much ire, too much desire to rebel, to control. Reminds me of a..." He paused, contemplating.

"Dragon." I finished and landed a blow on his jaw while he was thinking. A lesser man would have a broken jaw. I rubbed my throbbing knuckles and winced, earning a laugh. 

"Sure." He laughed, popping his jaw and swinging from hard left. I dodge and cuffed his ear. He managed to knee me in the stomach. I fell over onto my knees and coughed. "Ha!" He let out loudly, going for another kick. I grabbed his leg and yanked him down on his back. He was a heavy man. He got up just as quickly as I did. I landed a kick to his sternum and delivered a hook to his throat while he was distracted. Finally while he was staggering, I made a final kick to his liver, causing him to throw up and thus, yield.

"Fine! Fine! You win." He coughed, wiping his mouth off on his bracer and cringing. 

"Yes, of course I do." I smirked. "You'd do well to remember that, Stone-Fist." I leaned down and whispered against his ear. "I always do." He stared at me in horror for a moment. I basked in it then left him in the courtyard. 


	17. Battle for Whiterun

As soon as we approached, some sort of alarm went off and fires were lit. Niren was behind me, grinning wickedly, revealing every last canine tooth. I, however, was a bit frightened. Although, I had no idea what I was scared of, killing people, or Niren, or the practical boner that Galmar was getting as he spoke to his men about killing others. With one last speech from Galmar and the whoop of the crowd, we charged. Niren sniffed the air then ran up some stairs made of wood, throwing soldiers out of her way. I watched her and finished off the people that didn't die from breaking their neck from the fall. Suddenly the bridge fell and she jumped from the overpass, charging someone and killing them with her hands and no weapon. I shuddered but followed behind her as she ran through the city, disregarding the guards. I questioned her, but followed. It seemed the entire city and battle was behind us when we entered Dragonsreach. As soon as the doors were open, Niren swept three guards apart with her sword and wiped the blood on her armor. I felt my breath catch and bile reach my throat. I hadn't even realized it was possible to split someone in half with a one-handed sword. 

Irileth, the housecarl to Balgruuf, pushed me up against the wall with her sword. My feet dangled from the ground. The sword dug into my throat. Niren stopped and looked over, smelling my blood.

"Put your weapon down, elf, or I'll slice her open." Irileth spat. She looked back at me. "I can't believe you would do this, Herlaith Silver-Blood." She hissed.

"Then you are foolish." I said calmly. "Put your sword down and my soldier will." Irileth watched me for a second before backing up from me and dropping me to the ground. I landed on my feet and held my hand out to Niren, signalling her to stand down. She did, watching me with concern. Niren approached me, nursing the huge would on my neck. I blinked, not realizing it was there. It was quickly healed. 

Galmar forced through the door, pushing past the six peices of three guards. He looked to Niren, knowingly then to Balgruuf. 

The rest has been omitted, for none shall speak again of what happened in Dragonsreach. 

We left shortly after. Bodies were strung along the archway like decor. Even two of Balgruuf's children were there. The other, had killed them in the panic. Balgruuf's body hung at the center of the arch. I couldn't look at it, the whole scene was too gory. _Children._ Dead. 

"It's okay dear. You were just following orders." Niren rubbed my back. We were hiding beneath the Skyforge, while Galmar was giving another speech to the men. Niren wrapped her arms around me. "It's okay. They can't see you." I grimaced, squeezing her and burying my face into her shoulder. "Shhh... There, there." She ran fingers through my knotted hair and kissed my head. Every inch of me was trembling uncontrollably and curling up into her embrace. Times like these, I was glad she was taller than me. She easily envelope me in a hug. My thoughts of her warmth and compassion was only interrupted when she bristled beneath me. I looked up at her with puffy eyes. She ran a thumb over them to clear the tears then looked up. There was a man in wolf armor in front of us. Niren growled at him. I glanced up to the man's face. His eyes were much like Niren's. He glared down at her. 

"You two ought to find your ways back to Windhelm, child killers." He said harshly, diverting his gaze towards mine. I crumbled and buried my face into Niren's shoulder again. I knew it was a sign of weakness, but I didn't care, and neither did Niren's. 

"Shut your filthy mouth, low bred Companion." Niren's voice was dripping with acidity. "Take your tainted ass out of her business. I'll have you know she had nothing to do with that!" She hissed, standing up and towering over the Companion. "I will send you to Hircine before you get the chance to say it again."

He stood there, face reflecting surprise. 

"You..." His voice was lost. I tugged the seem of her tunic, a small symbol to back off. 

Niren glanced down at me and dropped her stance to kill. She picked me up and sneered at the companion before leaving.She carried me through the back allies of Whiterun until we got to where the men were rallied. She set me down, fixed my hair and my posture, finally tilting my chin up to meet her eyes. She planted a tender kiss on the side of my mouth. 

"Love, straighten up. Put it behind you." She whispered against my skin. I looked at her and nodded. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Yes, you look fine." She straightened the leather section of my armor and smeared blood from her wound on my face. I was shocked for a moment. "Makes it look like you killed more than you did." She noted before standing behind me and nudging me to move. I did, slowly, reluctantly. 

They saw me and looked frightened. Good. Niren followed close behind, wholly playing the part of the innocent soldier. After Galmar had finished up his little rally speech, we moved. Most of them were walking along the road, and I desperately wanted to ride in the carriage, but I felt that I needed to stay away from Galmar as much as possible. HE thought I cleaved those men in half, he thought I killed Irileth. He thought I did it. I couldn't bear the thought of killing Irileth. It tore me apart inside to watch Niren wrench her apart.  _She hadn't used her sword on the poor Dunmer_.

It was a long trek back to Windhelm, and even when we got there, Ulfric fucking Stormcloak wanted to send me out to Markarth. As what? A fucking Jarl. I stood there for a moment.

"Yes, Herlaith. I have decided you are fit to run Markarth." He said. That low voice sounded like skin raked across broken glass shards. 

"And you think that's a good idea?" I scoffed, without meaning to. I barely had a grasp on my own damn life, and this motherfucker wanted me to fucking run Markarth.

"Yes, dear." He said, grinning. "Unless you want your father to do it. He was my first pick." 

Had he noticed how my skin crawled at the idea. He must have, because he  _laughed_.

"Have your way, Ulfric Stormcloak, but the guards of Markarth will not be replaced by your soldiers, Niren will be my housecarl, Calcemo remains court wizard, and you get your fuckin' nose out of Markarth's ass. Under my thumb we won't have any Forsworn within the city or along the roads." I stared at him, contently. He grinned again.

"I always have my way, Herlaith." He said carefully. "I accept your terms. Pack and go, Jarl Herlaith." 

I turned, to see Niren's blood drained face.

"The Thalmor will be eradicated, dear, don't worry." I sauntered off to the bedroom. I glanced through the bedroom then down at my leg and sighing. I wanted to be done with this politcal bullshit, but the more I tried to get away from it, the more I got into it. My head was spinning, but it made since that a Silver-Blood would be in charge of Markarth. We were anyway. But now it was with a pretty title. 


	18. A Jarl Bitchy Enough to Rival Siddgeir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sequential chapters, until told otherwise, will be told in the point of view of Niren.

The last few weeks went by like a summer breeze. I became the housecarl to my mate. She ran the city with an iron fist--or rather, a silver one. Much like the father she so aptly despised, she was stubborn and relentless. Just as that damnable bear, Ulfric, had said, the Thalmor were gone from the city. The city of Markarth wasn't as bad as I had anticipated at all, truly. A bit corrupt, a bit messy, a bit bloody, but mostly, the worst thing was the set up of the city. Who in their right fucking mind decided a stream of water running through that craggy death trap was a good idea? No one. That city was Sheogorath's joke, surely. To make things worse, it was Herlaith who was corrupt. I lost count of how many vigilantes I put to death, or how many Dark Brotherhood Assassins I had to hide. 

"Herlaith!" I was rudely interrupted by a familiar voice. _Yngvar_. That man disgusted me to no end. I don't know if it was pure jealousy, or the stories Herlaith told me about what he liked to do to her in bed. It made me furious, to say the least, when he so excitedly charged into the throne room and right up to the Jarl. I jumped in front of him, sword out, secretly hoping he would continue, just so that he would run himself through on my blade. Alas, he stopped. And glared. "Move, you treacherous elf!" 

"Treacherous?" I snorted, jabbing at his steel armor and causing him to back up. "You best hold your tongue, bard." 

"You let me believe she was dead." He hissed, tears stinging his eyes. I smirked at his unbridled emotional outburst. He was a truly pathetic man. 

"That doesn't make me treacherous. I was protecting her. Much better than you ever did, might I add." I shrugged, watching the tears sting his eyes. He looked drunk.

"I should be her housecarl! Not some wiry elf who probably couldn't kill a wolf!" He cried out, clenching his fists. I pitied the man. I knew that Herlaith was an awful person in her youth. She probably led him to love then played him like an instrument. But that didn't stop me from being jealous. 

"Wiry elf? Care to test that, nord?" I scoffed.

He glared and wiped his tears away, drawing his sword. I heard Herlaith's whispering business to Reburrus stop. She glanced over at us. Those startling blue eyes fell on me then Yngvar. She hadn't slept in days. The blue in her eyes was accompanied by an ugly red bloodshot hue. She narrowed her scrutiny and stared at us.

"Take it outside." Her stern words sent the both of us out of Understone Keep. Yngvar rushed at me as soon as the doors shut. His sword met my steel armor and staggered me. I glared up at him, driving the pommel against his sternum. Even through his own armor, I heard a sickening crack. He was down instantly, heaving and struggling to breathe. 

"I'm not going to tell you again." I hadn't told him once, but he got the message: stay away. "Nord." I let the insult fester and left to quickly join Herlaith's side. 

It was well past dark when Herlaith rose from the throne, floating like a spectre to her bedroom. I followed, taking off my layers of armor as she peeled off the noble looking clothing. She threw it on the ground for the servants to wash and fold. Nude of all, she sat at her desk. Recently, and much to my amusement, she made it a point to pin letters about her on the wall. Letters I found on the bodies of her would-be assassins. Out of amusement, or self loathing, I'd never know. Despite being much older than herself, and the daughter of Hircine, she was quite the enigma to me. But perhaps that's what I found so attractive. I watched her dip a quill in proper ink and begin to write out a letter. I sighed.

"You're going to work yourself to death, love." I said quietly. When she wasn't sitting on the throne, she was easily startled. 

"So be it." She murmured, cursing, and beginning to rewrite the letter, muttering about Daedra, Ulfric, Oblivion and Imperials all at once. She cursed again, restarting the letter.

"Sleep, Herlaith. Or I'll make you." I said more harshly. She looked up at me. Tears were falling from her eyes. I paused, awe-struck, frightened, and guilty all at once. Seeing her with such a straightforward emotion was almost... refreshing. After so long, she cried to me. I knelt beside her, at eye level with her, and grasping the back of her chair. "My love, your weariness wounds me." I said gently, raising my calloused hand to cup her face. She leaned into it, shutting her eyes.

"Carry me, Niren." Herlaith's voice was so faint I scarcely heard it. Maybe she didn't say it at all. That my imagination heard what I wanted to hear her say, was much more likely. Regardless of which happened, I picked her up and cradled her like that for a moment before carrying her to the bed and covering her up. She looked up at me and tried to tug me into the bed with her but I placed her wrist by her side and planted a kiss on her head.

"Sleep." I whispered against her skin and stood up straight. She looked up at me but nodded and rolled onto her side, cacooning into the sheets and blankets. I watched her until I was sure she was asleep. Despite being a Nord, as of late, she require multiple blankets just to keep the chill from her body. Understandably. The Reach was colder than it should have been. I stared for a moment before silently leaving the room. I went to the barracks and assigned a man named Argis to guard the room. I would never trust common guards with her life. Even if it meant letting a burly nord that was undoubtedly attractive stand in front of her bedroom door. He was a housecarl. He wouldn't do anything to her. 

I made my way through and out of the Keep. I had taken up the very mortal habit of drowning my problems in alcohol, at the Silver-Blood inn. The inn was busy, unfortunately. Kleppr looked up wearily from wiping vomit and spilled drink from his counter while his wife berated him. He poured me a drink and I left the coin in his hand. I sat in a corner on a crate, regretting only wearing a tunic and leggings and excuses for leather boots. Eventually, though, the mead and the fire drained the cold from me. I stayed in the shadows for a long while. Occasionally a bar maid I didn't know the name to brought more drink and tried her damnedest to flirt for an extra tip. I was in no such mood to deal with so I gave her the money, hoping that would silence her. It worked and she left, leaving a few bottles of mead with me. Black-Briar. Normally I didn't like to sit in a tavern and lick my wounds, mentally, but I felt as if my control was slipping. I ran a finger of scars I on my shoulder.

Stormcloak scars. Ones given to me when I was imprisoned by them, not fighting for them. I emptied the bottles and felt my head swimming, when an unfortunately familiar Breton Mage sauntered over to me and sat next to me. I looked up, scowling. 

"What do you want, Sanguine?" I hissed through gritted teeth. He grinned and produced a handful of flowers. "Stop that, I'm taken." I said again, more annoyed than previously. 

"Please, please, call me Sam." He laughed and leaned in towards me. He smelled disturbingly similar to Herlaith and had that same smirk that brought me to my knees. He knew it too. I could smell his satisfaction on him. He must have done that on purpose. "Niren, seen your father recently?" He sat on the same crate as I did.

"Yes, actually, I have." I stared, indifferent now, taking a different approach to get him to leave me alone. "Leave me, you have no business with me. Father told me to steer clear of both you and Vile, so leave." I waved my hand in a gesture for him to go. 

"Oh, please, you've never listened to your father before." He snorted and laughed. His words were slurred but that half-hearted grin said he was clearly far from inebriated. "Heard about the whole.. oh, what are they called." He pursed his lips and pondered. "Jarl business." 

"Then you will know I am very stressed and would like some time to myself--by myself, to relax, alone." I worded my thoughts carefully, doing my best to not give him any room to say some sexually-sewn joke or jest. "If you would be so kind as to leave me alone, that would be great." I scowled again, picking up a bottle and placing it against my lips, only to find it empty. I sighed. He laughed. 

"Here, allow me." He waved his hand and a red liquid filled the bottle. I glanced at it, noting how similar a shade of red it was to Herlaith's lips. When the thought occurred to me, I shot him a look, causing him to grin and lean in towards me, perching his head on his folded hands. "Go on."

"If this is drugged and I end up in the middle of trouble, I will find you, and kick your horny ass." I hissed but could not resist drinking it. The aroma it had was exquisite--and the taste was even better. I paused, making eye contact with the Daedra again. "What is in it?" 

He laughed and shrugged, "I have no idea!" He laughed harder. "That's the best part--it's not even from Skyrim! Some poor Cyrodillian person is missing their wine." He smiled a toothy grin. "Well, little wolf?"

"Little?" I snorted. "I'm much taller than you, you short cur." It was true, without manipulating his body to be taller, he was naturally short. Especially when taking a mortal vessel. 

"Watch it, animal, or might just have to break you." He leaned in, dropping his voice. 

"Spare me your flirtations, Sanguine." I hissed, leaning back until my back was against the wall. This seemed to cause him to scoot closer and lay a hand on my thigh. I stared down at it then dared to glance up at his eyes. They were blue now--that bastard was taking my favorite aspects of Herlaith and using them against me! I growled, shoving him to the ground. He stumbled and tripped, skull painfully bouncing on the ground. I stood over him before drawing a dagger. I heard people murmuring. Apparently they'd been watching. "I have a lover, and she has my undying loyalty. If you try to come between us again I will split you from this body." I said low enough so that no one could hear. The last thing I needed tonight was someone questioning my wording or forcing an answer out of me. "I will betray my father and kill you if I must." I said more sternly. 

"I'd like that." He smirked up at me. This man-daedra knew exactly what to say to get under my skin. I spat on him and swiftly exited. As soon as I stepped outside my nose caught whiff of one of those little Stendarr priests. I hissed again, more to myself than at someone. I looked around and followed the scent. He was talking to Yngvar in front of the house Herlaith wouldn't talk to me about. At first, I thought it was something about a former lover, but upon sniffing the air again, I could only hope that He would have nothing to do with Herlaith. My stomach dropped at the realization of who He, was exactly. Perhaps I should let the Vigilant do his work here,  _then_ kill him, but... 

The call of the Blood was much too strong and as soon as Yngvar had walked away, I approached the man, about to pounce when he saw me. My forced the gold from my eyes. Before I knew what I was doing I was in the house with him, following him into the depths of the house. 

"Weak. He is... " I groaned, hearing the grating voice. I knew what he wanted, and he knew that I did. I sighed and walked up to the Vigilant. I ought to have killed him as an elf, but I did't. I let the blood take hold, much to the horror of the man. I laughed once fully transformed, and let go. A mistake to be had. 

I jumped on the man, ripping through his robes and flesh with a furious whirlwind of claws and teeth. His screams filled my ears, and quite possibly, the entire city. No guards would come though. Herlaith made it very clear that any guards to enter the house would be punished. 

Soon enough I was coated in blood and had eaten the man's heart. I shifted back, sighing at my tattered clothing and luckily finding a pair of clothes in the bedroom of the house. 

"Niren of Hircine." The drawn out voice laughed. "That is quite the surprise. Come." 

I shook my head and tried the door, only to be thrown far back into a wall and sliding down. I crumpled to the floor, healing a few broken ribs. I grunted and stood up. 

"I said come." The voice was cruel, just as I remembered it. Albeit, I hadn't actually met the damned thing, but father had taken me to Coldharbor to show me the horrors of it. He often threatened to leave me there if I disobeyed him. That, however, was when I was very small, hardly 6. "Come, or I will kill you." 

"Fine." I growled, storming down further into the house. I found the previously locked door now wide open. I scowled and walked into the cellar, then through tunnels, then to an altar. I hesitated, knowing what was about to come. I jumped in time to be out of the cage, but another force held me against the ground. I bristled with anger at the chuckling that came. "I know how this works." I managed to say. "Who is it? What am I to do?" The laughing came again. 

"Using Hircine's pup to do my bidding? No, I have plans for you, but it is not that." Molag Bal said. "I will use you to get what I want."

"You will do no such thing." I growled, struggling against the force. Should have listened to Herlaith. 

"Unlike your father, I have no desire to hunt. Submit to me, pup, or I will force you." 

I stayed deathly still. 

"Fine. What are you going to do?" I said barely above a whisper. The force left and I sat up quickly, drawing my sword and  _cowering_. I knew why to cower though. 

"In time, wolf." He said without any trace of his usually anger or amusement. I looked around, half expecting some ugly dremora to emerge and charge at me. "For now, it would amuse me.." He paused as if pondering. He paused long enough to let his words set in to me and cause me to violently shudder. I rose to my feet. "Kill all of her previous lovers. They were weak and could not tame her as you did." He laughed now and I felt the heaviness in the air settle in to my chest. "Slaughter them in my name, Niren."

"I will." I ground out from my trembling lungs. I left quickly, after he said nothing more. My hand hesitated on the doorknob. I touched it barely, and after not being thrown back, opened the door and quickly rushed out. Molag Bal's presence explained the odor of the city. I rushed back into Understone Keep, dismissing Argis and crawling into bed after removing my clothes and throwing on a night gown. I stared at Herlaith as she slept. I'd have to kill each one of her past lovers to escape that asshole's wrath. Do you know how many lovers she had? Fuck. 

I closed my eyes and practically broke Herlaith when I wrapped my arms around her. Her nose was thrust into my neck and I enveloped her completely, holding her there. She stirred but soon tiredly put an arm around me and fell back asleep. I kissed her hair, regretting falling in love with a whore. 

I woke up, not but a few hours later and donned my armor. I made my way down to the kitchens and grabbed Herlaith's breakfast, carrying it carefully to her bedroom and setting it on her desk. She rolled out of bed, hardly alive and drug herself to the food, pulling herself into the chair and slumping. She looked pathetic. I flashed a spell at her leg, just to be safe. 

"Love, we need to talk." I pulled a chair next to hers. She groaned.

"Sanguine, I know." She said quickly. "He came to me and told me to get you under control."

"Please, tell me he didn't fuck you." I looked up at her, as if she had stabbed me.

"No! I wouldn't--I"

"No, I'm not mad, I would understand." I held an arm out to clam her down. "I went into that house. The one you told me to steer clear of."

Her face went taut and her eyes glazed over. She looked unbelievably frightened. 

"He told me things. For example, to kill all of your previous lovers."

"And he told me to get him one of Boethiah's preists, but I never did. It'll be fine, just don't do it." She shook her head and started cramming her mouth full of food. I stared at her agape.

"What?"

"You... are actively... defying Molag Bal?"

"Yeah. Fuck him." She said with her mouth full.

"I wouldn't suggest that." I grinned from ear to pointed ear. "Might end up with bloody thighs and two pointed teeth." 

"--You know what I mean!" She hissed after swallowing. "Niren, I'm loyal to you. I would never."

"Yes, but you don't understand." I crossed my arms. "He wouldn't give you a choice. Maybe before you were just some mortal, but now if you went near him, you'd smell like a Daedra." I pointed at myself. She winced.

"You mean..."

"Yes, Herlaith. He's no gentleman, that's for sure. You need to do what he tells you, and appease him, and hopefully he'll leave you be." 

"No. I will not harm the Forsworn just to get a bloody preist out of captivity--and please--don't kill them." She grabbed my hands, holding them between hers tenderly. "I do not love them, but I do care for some of them. Like Borkul, Aicantar, and Senna." I stared at her as she spoke the words. I felt my resolve break when she looked up at me with those pleading eyes. I swallowed my organs back down my throat.

"Yes, love." I said hoarsely. Molag was wrong. I didn't tame her. She domesticated me. She smiled and wiped away the fear in my heart by gently kissing me. She stood up and threw on her Jarl get up, fastening a bear pelt over her shoulders with a silver chain. I watched her before walking up behind her and fixing her tunic. She sighed and braided her hair. 

"Niren, where am I going when I die? Am I going with you?" She said abruptly, staring at me through the mirror. I stood just behind her.

"Sovngarde. You aren't going to the Hunting Grounds." I answered brutally. "And I will not let you go to Sanguine's realm--or Vile's." My hand found her shoulder. She looked back and up at me. 

"I want to be with you, though..." She said sadly, putting her hand on mine.

"No. I will not allow you in the Hunting Grounds. You would be hunted--and I would be hunting you." I said honestly. It was true. When we were there before, I was demonstrating as much control as I could, and even that had not been enough from stopping my claiming and marking of her. I stared down at her sadly then kissed her on the head. "It's time for you to go. The Mournful Throne awaits her mistress." I laughed bitterly. 

She stared for a moment. I saw so many things behind her blue eyes. Heart break, love, disappointment... to name a few of many. I guided her to the throne room and she sat in it, staring out of the palace. I stayed on my feet, close, but respectfully distant. When she was on the throne, she was not my lover. She was Jarl Herlaith Silver-Blood, and I was her housecarl. Her eyes changed as soon as she sat down. They were cruel and calculated, merciless and justice driven. 

The first man that came in was the a stableman named Banning. I cringed, smelling human flesh on his breath and Namira's blessing in his blood. What was with MArkarth and the Daedra? He noticed and looked away quickly. I didn't allow him too close to the Jarl. He kneeled and lowered his head, but I kept my sword. 

"What is it? You have requested an audience, what is it that troubles you, citizen?" Herlaith said so officially. Her voice was cold. 

"I have reported the stolen horses to the guard many times, but the Forsworn are relentless... this is the fourth horse that's gone missing in the past two months..."

"I see. Reburrus." She called to her Steward. "Leave for a moment." I looked up at her, surprised. Banning shared this, but Reburrus knew the Silver-Blood, and knew how to do business. He stood up and walked out. "Banning. How badly to you wish to keep your horses?"

"Very, my lord." 

"Even enough to use more... illegal means, cannibal?" She said quietly. Banning's attention was stricken and he looked up at her, pleadingly. 

"...Yes."

"Then you will recieve protection." She nodded.

"My Jarl..." He was too shocked for words, but smiled like a child. "Thank you!" He threw himself at her feet, causing me to startle and almost slice him open. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" He cried. "The stables, we are on the brink of death! Thank you! Thank you!" After a few moments of pleading thank you's towards awkward and stiff Jarl, he left. Herlaith let out something of a laugh. 

"By the Nine... I am trying to fix the city, but... I need to be corrupt in order to do it." She shook her head. "Reburrus, you may enter." She shouted. The steward reclaimed his seat. "Reburrus, send word for Brynjolf. I request his presence." 

"Brynjolf? Who is that, ma'am?" Reburrus looked up at her.

"Irrelevant. A member of the Companions, I assure you." She lied easily. "He lies in Riften. I expect him here in three days." Reburrus sighed and wrote a letter then disappeared. 

"Riften? A companion?" I laughed quietly, and to my surprise, she did as well. "I can't believe he bought that. He truly did--I smelled no such doubt on him." I snickered. 

As soon as I heard Reburrus's footsteps, the giggling and snickering abruptly stopped. I straightened my back. 

The second citizen was a sellsword, looking for work. 

"Sellsword, hm?" Herlaith pondered. "A woman without honor, without moral, simply working for coin." She grinned. "That is a good thing, don't mistake. Yes, there is work for you." 

"Anything, my lord."

"Help my people, sellsword. No, wait. Tell me, I request your name." She said. I quirked an eyebrow. 

"Elrene Nightgrove of Greenheart, Valenwood." She kneeled, taking off her helmet. A bosmer. A rather large bosmer, I noted. Tall enough to look like a Dunmer. She grinned and kept looking up at the Jarl. Herlaith stared, unamused by the elf's underlying challenge.

"Valenwood, hm? Is it as awful as I remember it?" Herlaith said.

"Twice as so, my lord." Elrene returned, smirking now. She had sharpened her teeth and I now noticed the red warpaint that looked much to similar to blood to be civil. 

"I went to Greenheart once. Is Vidker Silver-Blood still serving Sun's Dusk Ale there?"

"He is, my lord."

Herlaith grinned and shook her head. "That old drunk." Her tired eyes found themselves reflecting, on a better time, in a better place. My heart twinged. She looked like a tired veteran, the only difference being her obviously made up face and pretty hair. 

"My orders, Jarl Silver-Blood?" The bosmer interupted her sentimentality. 

"Help my people. If you help enough, then I will grant you title of my Thane and a place in my court. I like you, Elrene Nightgrove. Don't waste it. Go." Herlaith dismissed her and the Bosmer left quickly. 

For the rest of the day, people came to her with news of their troubles and left. By evening, Herlaith was tired, hungry, and thoroughly pissed off. 

"Niren." She barely supressed the growl in her voice as she shot me a look. "Go. Find. Krassus. Bring him here." 

I looked up startled. "Who will protect you?"

"Oh please. You sneak out at night and put Argis at the door. He can stand there while you're gone. Just be quick. His eye is unnerving." She made a motion to her face. 

"What a rude Jarl." I snickered quietly before approaching her. I planted a lingering kiss on her lips. Reburrus looked up, mortified. Even more so when Herlaith grabbed my hair and held me there for a moment before letting me go. "I'll return soon, love." I left and alerted Argis of his very, very temporary position at her side. I collected the Silver weapons that Herlaith insist I use. When the castle blacksmith handed me the sword I looked over it. It was a bastard sword with the symbol of Markarth engraved on the pommel. The hilt was brass.

"You know. Your condition." He said gruffly and laughed. I looked up startled. "Yes, I know. Herlaith told me. Didn't want you burning on your own weapon, but it's custom for the Silver-Blood's weapons to use Silver." I looked down at the brass. It was made carefully to look like silver. I smiled, thanked him and left. It was the most intricate sword I'd ever seen. Virgin blade that it was, I was somewhat eager to spill blood upon it. Jokes on Herlaith. It took a _lot of blessed_ silver to actually burn me. 

I left immediately, despite the setting sun. Actually, that might have been better. Outside of the city I transformed and sprinted out into the Reach. Many Forsworn followed me, but I never stopped running. Soon, they lost interest and my blood pushed their well-placed arrows out of my head and back and sealed the wounds. I followed the scent of Krassus Ember-Eye. The best part of being Hircine's daughter, is being able to locate each and every one of his lesser children at any time. Even the ones that didn't like their situation. Like Kodlak. 


	19. Of Rude Jarls and Worse Generals

Rather to my surprise, I found myself in Falkreath hold. Krassus, sentimental bastard he was apparently stayed there after abandoning post. A crime, in the eyes of our Stormcloak superiors, punishable by death. 

"Well, if it isn't the elf!" She heard him from far away. Apparently, the albino wolf had noticed me. 

"Yeah, it's me. Who'd you expect? Herlaith?" I snickered and approached him as an elf. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled the short Imperial into an embrace tight enough to break regular me's bones. He returned it by lifting me in the air and spinning around. I squealed and landed a blow on his shoulder. He put me down, laughing loudly. "Don't you ever do that again--or I swear--by the Nine!--I will send you to Hircine." I managed to threaten him between breaths.

"Sure you will." He jested. "So, what are you doing here? And why aren't you in your Stormcloak armor? Didn't take you for heavy armor type girl."

"Thinking often of me, are you, Ember-Eye?" I smirked down at him. He backed up so he didn't have to look up. 

"Yeah, whatever gets you off, elf." He huffed, crossing his arms. "You didn't answer my question."

"You've been summoned." I waited for him to take the bait, grinning viciously.

"By.. who?" He hesitated. "If you haven't noticed, I'm in hiding."

I took a deep breath and straightened up, a mockery of a diplomatic stance, "Jarl Herlaith Silver-Blood of Markarth." I said with a puffed out chest. He stood there for a moment, dumb, before blurting out a laugh that was residing somewhere deep in his belly. He bent over with the pain of the harsh laughter. 

"You jest!" He wheezed, face red with laughter. "Herlaith? Jarl?!"

"I do not jest. I guard." I grinned again.

"Let me guess, you became your wife's housecarl?" 

"Of course. I wouldn't let Yngvar do it." I cringed at the thought but dismissed it immediately. He looked at me questioningly.

"She's... really the Jarl of Markarth?"

"Indeed."

"And she... summons me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I couldn't tell you if I wanted to, but I suppose it would be to handle citizens and their issues, so she actually do her job without being interrupted, every other moment. " I sighed. "Come on. Bring your things."

"I don't have any, let's get going, then." He shrugged.

I nodded and let the blood ripple under my skin before my body began the transformation. He followed suit, and the we sprinted off in the direction of Markarth. Occasionally, the friendly run was truly a chase, as my control slipped between full and none. At nightfall we stopped to hunt. By morning we were coated in the blood of Forsworn.

"Shit shit shit!" I yelled, transforming back and looking around, panicked. "Do you see an orc--or a redguard?!" My heart was beating painfully in my chest. Krassus took a moment and looked around, sniffing. "Please tell me!" The thought of accidentally doing the bidding of Molag Bal and disappointing Herlaith hit me hard. 

"I do not." His voice was messed up from the snout. 

"Okay... okay... I ..." I took a deep breath and knelt. The white wolf walked behind me, grabbing something in my back and yanking it out. It was a dagger. I looked back, beginning to panic once more. When had that even happened? Why hadn't the blood pushed the blade out and healed me. I felt lightheaded. The next thing I knew was Krassus's hands on my shoulders, shaking me, but I collapsed still. He rolled me onto my back and left. My vision blurred as I looked around. Well, I was going to die a lot sooner than I had thought. Honestly, it was very upsetting, but at least I'd be rid of this ugly body. I looked over my shoulder to see a deer. 

"Can't stay out of trouble, daughter?" I heard the voice of Hircine in my head. I sighed again, more forced, more irritated.

"No, I can't. Come to take me home?"

"Niren, you're only 122. What makes you think I would let you come home after such a short time?" 

"Right, of course. Don't want your daughter besmirching your reputation." I laughed bitterly. "At least let me pick a vessel--I'm sick of the body I was born with, it's awful, father."

"Quiet. That was your father's race. I told you to be proud of it."

"I joined the Thalmor, isn't that proud enough?"

"Niren," Father's voice warned dangerously. "I grow tired of your attitude, it may work on that white wolf and on that blonde whore, but it is irritating to me, dear." 

I opened my mouth to say something either obscene or insulting, but I only choked on blood. The deer stepped over to me and lowered its head. 

"Niren?" Krassus's voice caused me to open my eyes, without realizing I had closed them. I looked over at him, vision clearing. "How? Did you heal yourself?"

"I wouldn't have been able to. Couldn't focus. Poison." I stared at the dagger on the ground. "Hircine healed me." I shrugged and sat up. He eyed me. "Father."

"You are the only wolf I've ever met that actually calls him 'father' anymore." He forced a chuckle to break the tension, or perhaps to distract me from noticing the tears in his eyes. I chose to ignore it and tried to stand, but fell back and groaned. "We'll rest for a day-- you could use it. Look at you."

"You're not so pretty yourself, Imperial."

I waited for a witty comeback from my friend, but he just sat next to where I lie and crossed his armored arms. 

"Why were you in Falkreath?" I looked up at him, folding my arms underneath my head to keep it off the ground. 

"Skyrim's cold as Oblivion and I can't go back to Cyrodill." He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Nothing left in the Imperial City for me. Not after... you guys... you know. You were there. Then my family in Whiterun that I abandoned."

"Ah..." I looked away, feeling guilt bubble up in my chest. "Sorry... I was... "

"Just following orders? _" No, trying to please father, but close enough._

"Something like that." I closed my eyes until I heard shifting. Krassus was pulling the metal plates of his armor off. I watched, expecting an explanation. "I'm taken, dear."

"Oh, please." He laughed under his breath. "This isn't about you." He gestured towards the pile. "It's so dented that it hurts to wear."

"Hammer it out."

"With what?" He stared down at me. 

"A hammer."

"Niren," his voice was serious, and his face was deadpanned. "Stop being a piece of shit." He said without laughing and fixing his tunic and leggings, free of the heavy armor. 

"I can't--and you need a bath." I cringed and rolled over, away from him. "You smell like blood and sweat."

"And you smell absolutely perfect and chaste." He teased. "Not at all like you just got out of Herlaith's pants." 

I turned my head and glared. "Care to wonder why?"

He paused, then grinned widely. "You fucking dog--you marked her--better yet, she marked you!" He laughed. "I didn't think it was possible!" 

"That's right." I boasted. "I bedded the Jarl of Markarth!" I yelled proudly, laughing. 

"Who hasn't?"

"Hey. Watch it. I'm her housecarl, I'll kill you if I have to." 

"Okay, okay." He held his hands up before plopping down and grumbling. "Should have bought a bedroll. Stone's hard." 

"Same here, but I didn't expect to be stopping." I complained. 

"Get some sleep. Better yet, sleep off that poison. I want to leave by nightfall." He rolled over on his side, away from me, thusly ending our 'conversation'. I sighed and tried my best to sleep.

 

                                                                                                                               * * *

 "Krassus Ember-Eye!" Herlaith's voice echoed off the stone throne as she stood up grinning. She stepped off her throne to shake his hand then punch him in the face. Her grin disappeared as quickly as it came. She had his hand in a death grip. He cringed and tried to pull it from her. "A word." She said. I noted how much she sounded like her father. "Now."

She dragged him down the hall. When they came back he looked stunned and she looked bored, returning to her throne and lounging in it. Krassus looked at me. 

"What is happening?" I looked at him then to Herlaith. 

"I'm ... Captain of the Guard." Krassus looked at me, confused.

"Good job. That's exactly what I said." Herlaith hissed. "Go to the Keep blacksmith. Full Silver armor. If you must, light armor will be fine. Also, here." She flicked a metallic thing--a ring at him. He caught it after some struggle and stared. The Jarl glanced to her steward and then to me. Krassus glanced at our hands before understanding.

"I feel like property." He laughed to break the silence.

"If you must." Herlaith shrugged. "Now, with you here, I should stop getting fifty citizens whining about thieves every damn day." She rolled her eyes. "Get to it. If you have any questions about your job, ask Reburrus, not me." 

Krassus simply nodded and left. I looked up at Herlaith. 

"You know if Ulfric or Galmar finds him, they'll take him, right?"

"If. _If,_ Niren." She pointed a finger at me. "And they won't. Now, another task." 

I mentally groaned. 

"Wait for Brynjolf by the gates. I want you to be the first one to see him. Trust me, you'll know when its him." She tapped her fingers on the arm of the throne irritably. "Go. I expect him here at a near time."

"Yes, my Jarl." I bowed and left, noticing Argis's absence. 

I strolled through Markarth, slowly, minding my step, making a stop by the Temple of Dibella for a blessing then continuing towards the gate. It was quiet, as per normal, now that Herlaith ran the city. No one was getting mugged _in plain sight._ Miners stayed in the mines or at the smelter. Ghorza yelled, albeit, more quietly, at her useless assistant. Guards praised me, or simply nodded as I passed. I took a longer path, this time. One avoiding the abandoned house. 

I pushed the gates opened and waited, leaning against the stables. The sun ducked behind the mountains as a carriage rolled over the horizon, towards the stables. I watched it, examining the five people that emerged from the back of the cart. I watched a nobleman pass and enter the city. Not Brynjolf. I watched the bosmer sellsword hop off. Not Brynjolf. I watched a Khajiit waltz into the city. Probably not Brynjolf. Then two figures with hoods headed towards the gate. I walked up behind them, going for the taller one and pulling the hood down. Red hair greeted me like fire. The man turned his head. His eyes drifted over me briefly. Behind his eyes I could see his mind working like Dwemer mechanics. 

"Brynjolf."

"Aye." I caught him off guard for less than a second. "One of the Jarl's then?" He turned to face me. His companion did as well. 

"Yes." I held my hand out, expectantly. "A pleasure, _Companion."_ I said loud enough for the guard to hear. He smirked just briefly and shook my hand viciously. I glanced down at his hand then up the arm that emerged from the cloak. _A thief._ A smart one, for he took the hint and played along, playing the part of honorable mercenary. "This way, to Understone Keep." I led the two thieves through the city, only glancing back when I couldn't hear their footsteps. Instinctively I checked my pockets for all my possessions and kept walking. The woman with Brynjolf snickered, returning my dagger upon my notice. I didn't retaliate, but did find myself grinning.

We walked to the throne room where both paused. The white haired, young woman stood in disbelief, mouth agape, while Brynjolf only grinned. Reburrus left, signalled by Herlaith. I returned to her side. 

"It's been too long, lass." His voice caught me off guard. When he wasn't forcing it to be 'honorable', it was surprisingly pleasing to listen to. 

"It couldn't have been longer." Herlaith smirked, leaning forward on the throne. "Vex, it's good you came along." 

"Yes," the woman replied, face in a scowl. "You're a Jarl? _I don't like it._ Doesn't suit you." This 'Vex' was definitely a past lay for Herlaith. I could see why too. She was Herlaith, in black leather armor. Bitchy and sexually attractive. 

"Not my choice." Herlaith said quietly, "but my responsibility to my people." When the woman saw the genuine feeling behind Herlaith's eyes, she held her sharp tongue.

"So, what is this business, then?" Brynjolf spoke up. The Jarl sighed.

"I want the Guild in the city. Got too many loose thieves. I want them under control." She said almost under her breath. "I also have a task. Cihdna Mine is impossible to breach..." She stopped. "I don't suppose Cynric still does jailbreaking does he? I'd like to establish that it is indeed impenetrable, and I can't think of someone better, unless of course, it's your 'little Vex'." Herlaith grinned and crossed her legs

"I can arrange it. For a price, of course." He said, running a hand through his hair. Herlaith nodded. 

"How about letting you in my city with protection? As in, the guards will probably not kill you on sight."

"Well, I suppose." He shifted his weight on his feet. "Mercer Frey won't be too pleased though. Doesn't like Markarth." 

"Mercer Frey doesn't like any city or hold. Speaking of... how did... you know... " she trailed off, glancing over at me, nervously. 

"Initially, he was infuriated, lass. You left without a word. Shouldn't have played him like that." Brynjolf cringed a bit. "He had never taken a liking to any of my proteges before. He was going to make you into a master thief. That was cruel."

"Apologies. I didn't know." She coughed nervously, quickly searching for a way to change the subject. I watched her, wondering just how many people she's hurt. A typical Barenziah. 

"It's in the past, lass." His soothing words ended the subject. "Now, is there some place we could stay?"

"There are some Dwemer ruins I've kept empty for such an occasion. Care to work next to the Brotherhood?"

"We... haven't had issues with them in the past." Brynjolf shrugged. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what connections she could have to the Brotherhood. What's next? She has friends in the Morang Tong? Alik'r? I swear, if that were the case--

"Get set up then, and... keep this private, Brynjolf. I don't want my corruption getting around. Ulfric Stormcloak put me on this throne, and I'd rather not be warring with him too much. Bad for business, you know." 

"Of course, my Jarl." He laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "We'll have probably keep a few seasoned members of the guild in Markarth to keep the young recruits in line. Any preferences?"

"Am I asking for prostitutes or thieves, Brynjolf?" Herlaith rolled her eyes. "If you're asking my suggestion, then I'd suggest putting Delvin here--since the Brotherhood will be so intermitten here--and Thrynn and Ravyn. They're pretty intimidating. Oh... wait... maybe not Imyan." She giggled at something only Vex smirked at.

"Markarth's bloody enough without him trying to off the assassin group by himself." Vex noted. "We'll figure something out, Herlaith." 

"Good, then you're dismissed. The inn is near the city gate. If you don't have the rogue thieves in my hold under control in two months, I'll eradicate you."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Vex bowed in a challenging manner, instead of a respectful one and pulling Brynjolf in her wake. They left abruptly. Herlaith was laughing. 


	20. Pack Animal

"Why, if it isn't the Jarl's housecarl. Gracing us with her presence? We're honored?" A sharp-tongued brunette with undeniably moodiness was leaning against the wall next to the door of an ancient Dwarven ruin.

"Yes, yes, I get it. You don't like me here." I dismissed it quickly. "Herlaith sent me to see your choices in overseers." 

"Oh, a fetch job, huh? Alright, that's fine." She sneered. 

"Names?" I said with a sigh. Dealing with these people for my lover would be the end of me by her hand or mine. 

"Sapphire. Cynric. Delvin. I hope you remembered that, because I'm not repeating it." She nearly spat and ended our encounter. I rolled my eyes and made my way back to the Keep when I saw Argis out of the corner of my eye. He was grinning far too much and smelled awful--even from afar. 

I approached him and startled him.

"You smell like a dragon. Have you been fighting dragons?" I said with disbelief, looking for near lethal wounds on the man. He laughed.

"I fucked the Dragonborn." He boasted proudly. I eyed him before judging that he was telling the truth. 

"...How? Did you abandon post? Whipe that damn smirk off your face, boy." I shook my head, trying to be mad, but only grinning. His own only widened at the response. "You know what... just go." I laughed at the spring in his step. At least he wouldn't be trying to bed Herlaith, then. 

Upon entering the Keep, the first thing I smelled and saw was blood. I stopped dead in my tracks. All the guards had been slaughtered, and even poor Calcemo lie dead on the floor, absolutely torn apart. My heart began to race and my limbs froze up. The blood, for the first time in a long time, was _itching to slaughter whoever has crossed me._

I willed the wolf down, it would only hinder me, especially if I found Herlaith dead. I took a deep breath and let it out shakily. I pulled my sword and ran straight to the throne room. Reburrus, as I hardly recognized, was lying charred and burnt in front of the throne. He was beyond any healing spell, so I quickly left, frantically searching for Herlaith, but not daring to call her name. I stumbled over the corpse of a Thalmor guard and nearly lost it. She was in danger. I ran throughout the entire castle, sprinting, panting, rageful. Argis and Yngvar had joined my search. I ran into Herlaith's bedroom to find her lying on the bed. My heart almost  stopped as I appeared at her side. My wolf was howling inside my ears. She looked up at me, eyes dim, mouth open. A paralysis spell. I covered her naked form to keep the chill from doing any more damage to her. That's when I noticed the liquid between her legs. A mixture of blood and semen. I froze, meeting her eyes. She had been crying. 

I wanted so badly to kill whoever I found did this, but I knew she needed me at the moment, so I knelt next to the bed, gently holding her hand. She shimmied over and placed her forehead against mine, trembling and finding tears again. I dared not hug her, in fear of her reaction. 

"Go, Niren." She whispered, hoarse and painfully. I looked at her sadly but nodded. Slowly, as to not startle her, I kissed her forehead and cast a healing spell over her. I left the bedroom hesitantly and spotted Krassus. He was looking around at the dead guards, grimacing. 

"Krassus." I called and got his attention. "Go... clean up Herlaith. She trusts you."

"What do you mean?" He looked at me, frightened she was hurt or dead. I bit back a quick wave of wrath. The wolf clawed at me. 

"She's been raped." I said without emotion. He faltered, cringing. 

"Thalmor." He said, almost afraid to say it aloud.

"I know." I turned and left, not letting him continue. Outside of the palace, away from Herlaith, I shifted. 

"Hunt them all, my daughter." A voice filled my thoughts and the wolf was let loose. As soon as I had fully transformed I opened my mouth and howled so deeply and in such anguish, I knew the entire province of Skyrim heard it. The ground shook with it and I ran through Markarth, finding the exit and heading straight for the Embassy. 

I wasn't sure what happened after that, but I knew that I had a gaggle of werewolves and werebears following me, summoned by my call. It had been a day since I left Herlaith, and I was sprinting for the Embassy now, on all fours. They followed me digilantly, and I knew my father was watching. 

"Werewolves!" I heard someone cry, and simply tore into them upon seeing their Elven armor and gold skin. We were at the Embassy. Much of my memories were blurred, but I distinctly remember silently ordering one of the bears to lock everyone in. He did so by shutting the gate and twisting the irons and knotting them together. I heard screams, felt blood, and soon slipped. I don't remember what happened, but I remember waking up.

I was lying on a pile of corpses, covered head to toe in blood, and had apparently been curled up with another wolf. He smelled like an underling. Luckily, the wolf had decided to stay loyal to Herlaith, it seemed. I sat up and licked my lips, wiping a bit of heart flesh from my mouth. He sat up as well. I narrowed my eyes, trying to place a name, before noticing the countless other men and women and finally, my own father. He was without his typical mask and he was grinning wickedly. I furrowed my brow.

Silently, he nodded and left. I inherited all of Skyrim, and all of his loyal followers, who recognized my heritage and my power. I looked back to my pack. Most were naked, some were still beasts. I did recognize three as Companions. The redhead was the first to approach me, head down, neck open. I couldn't find it in myself to smile, but wished I could. 

"I recognize you, Aela." I said calmly. I wish I had some of Herlaith's leadership abilities, but I only looked out at them, unsure of how to address them. Luckily, they didn't need it. They knew. They smelled it. I looked around the former Embassy. I looked down at Elenwen's barely recognizable corpse and smirked. "Blessings of sleep upon all of you." I said finally, looking back to them. I noted that the bear that closed the gate was a Stormcloak General and couldn't suppress my grin. He shared it. I turned and looked for a door. As if on cue, most of them left. The underling I had curled up with stayed, as well as two Companions and a child no older than 13 who was shaking but smelling of pride and satisfaction at her hunt, and lastly the Stormcloak General. I headed straight to the interrogation room.

There was no one in the cells. No corpses either. I looked around before riflign through the interrogator's desk. A spy would be sent soon to get the information, and I would have none of that. I picked up several Dossiers, choosing rather childishly, however, to leave the Dossiers of the two Blades. I picked up my own, Ulfric's, Herlaith's and Thongvor's. 

Curiosity took hold of me and I opened Herlaith's with a bit of hesitancy. 

"Status: Active Threat, Unobtainable (kill on sight)

Description: Jarl of Markarth, Heir to Silver-Blood Family, Stormcloak General, Known Forsworn Leader" I paused and quickly shut the book, burning it to ash as swiftly as possible. Forsworn  _leader_?

I pushed the thought out of my head. The most concerning about it, was that I didn't care. I picked up the other two books on her father and Ulfric and tucked them into a leather pouch I found and slung it around my shoulder. I put on prisoner's garb, not even thinking about going outside naked or transforming again. I returned to my ... pack... and walked up to Yrsarald. He looked noticeably uneasy with the fact I was Hircine's daughter, yet he held nothing but respect for me. He practically radiated it. I forced a smile.

"I'm coming to Windhelm with you."

"W-Wait." A small voice spoke up, and I glanced down at the child. She had tugged on my shirt. "Can I come...? I live there too." 

"Of course." I smiled almost genuinely. She admired me greatly and did nothing to hide it. I picked her up in a hug. "What's your name?"

"Sofie." She chirped, gleefully. Yrsarald hesitated, obviously recognizing the name and looking at her in confusion.

"The little waif that sells flowers in the Grey Quarter?" He spoke up, voice quiet, almost shy. Sofie nodded grimly, but didn't say anything. He sighed, scratching his head. I could smell his hesitation and also the paternal need to help her. The child paused, sniffing the air then turning to look over her shoulder. The others had left. "To Windhelm then?"

By far my favorite part of the Skyrim wolves and bears was the silent communication we had. Yrsarald looked around then pulled a cloak off one of the wizards and wrapped Sofie in it and picked her up. Her legs were far too short to keep up with either of our paces. We set out on the road to Windhelm. The entire way, Sofie was either singing or telling stories. I found myself idly smiling and holding the pouch close. Revenge was very underrated, and I felt great. Now, I would replenish Markarth's guards, to help Herlaith. 

We were greeted at the city's gate by Galmar, who looked between us, angry and stunned.

"Where in Oblivion did you disappear to?! Why aren't you by Herlaith's side?! Why the fuck are you carrying a child?!" He was fuming so many questions at once. Sofie recoiled. 

"Galmar, calm down, you're scaring Sofie." I said sternly. He looked like I had stepped on his foot.

"Who do you think you are, giving me orders?! You ugly, little half-bred--"

"Enough!" Yrsarald barked out at him. "Stop, Galmar. She is a hero. Let's get back to the Palace. I don't want all of Windhelm finding out." 

Galmar was stricken for a moment before simply nodding and heading towards there. 

"You can put me down now." Sofie said sadly. 

"Nonsense." Yrsarald said softly. He thought for a moment. "You can stay with me. I'll say you're my baby sister, or niece or something." He dismissed, glancing at me and following Galmar. I followed him, grinning. 

"Explain what is going on here." Ulfric's voice was edged with anger. Yrsarald and Galmar were silent. A servant took Sofie, probably to bathe the mass of blood off of her. I noted that I was still coated, though dried now, in it still but pulled the Dossier out of the pouch and tossing it to him. "What... is this?" He caught it easily and flipped it open, eyes widening and shooting me a look.

"Elenwen and all of her adversaries lie dead." I said without faltering. I could hear Galmar's gasp. "Tamriel is currently being cleansed of the Dominion's prescence." Which sounded very ironic in my thick Thalmor accent. "You're welcome." I smirked and added. 

"You... and Yrsarald... why?" He narrowed his eyes, suspicious and uneasy. I hesitated but decided on brutal truth.

"One of the Justiciars led a force on Markarth. Slaughtered the entire guard... court wizard and steward... and raped Herlaith." I almost cringed, but schooled my face. Ulfric did no such thing. His eyes flashed with fury. "I came to bring a guard back to Markarth. We are vulnerable. I beg your assistance on behalf of Jarl Herlaith Silver-Blood." I spoke again. 

"Yes, that will be fine." He took a deep breath. I eyed him. His eyes stung with tears. I scowled, realizing his feelings. Those were  _my feelings because Herlaith was_   **mine.** Unbridled jealously hit me like a wave and Yrsarald's hand gripped my shoulder. He shook his head. Ulfric raised an eyebrow. I glanced down at my arms, which had started to sprout black fur. It retreated. 

"Then excuse me, I will be heading back to her side now." I tossed the key to the Embassy's building. "I did that in the name of revenge for Herlaith and no other reason." I said shyly and carefully before ducking out of the palace and running to the stables. "A horse." I called to the stable boy.

"Oh--that'll be 1,000--"

"There's no time. I'm the housecarl to the Jarl of Markarth, you'll get the money soon." I said quickly, mounting the horse and taking off. My mind was eerily calm. My wolf was sated and I felt number than I'd like to admit. 

Markarth was quiet. The thieves' guild had already taken root and no crime was committed without their knowledge, so there was not much of it  during the period of rebuilding in the city. I walked to the palace, passing the Abandoned House and stopping dead in my tracks. I looked at the door with a fury once again.  **He did this.**

I closed my eyes, knowing there was nothing I could do and running to the Keep. Krassus was waiting for me outside, glowering at me.

"You're the Alpha now." He said, almost resentfully. 

"I'm not asking you to respect that. I won't be like the last one." I said, rolling my eyes. Even then, Tamriel hadn't seen an Alpha since the first Era. "You don't have to worry about the Thalmor anymore." He paused, eyeing me. 

"You're jesting."

"We've been over this." I smirked. "I don't. The wolves and bears and I slaughtered them all. And my howl reached, most likely, all of the other provinces, because with every passing second, my order is being carried out. I can feel it." 

"Niren!" He yelled, oranges eyes alight with wrath. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?!"

"A favor."

"You could wipe out the entire Altmer race!" He said, cringing. I thought about it but shrugged. 

"It's as Hircine intends."

"Stop them, Niren, you can't do this." He said harshly. I smelled fresh terror on him and stepped forward, looking down at the short Imperial man. 

"I can do as I please. This won't extinct the race, I assure you." I leaned in to make eye-level-contact. "We are better without the Thalmor, and you know it. You're just sour because I'm the Alpha now, and you're afraid that I'm going to go insane with power. Am I right?"

"Dead right." He said grimly, much more quietly. He had been put in his place.

"Dearest, Krassus. I'm already crazy. Power has nothing to do with it." I kissed him on the cheek and went inside, running to Herlaith, who was on the throne. She jumped off of it and onto me, staggering me and clinging onto me with arms and legs. I held her tight, burying my face into the crook of her neck. Something, admittedly, I did far too much. She moved and planted worried kisses over my entire face and giggling. Her face was burning with a blush and her eyes were growing puffy with tears.

"I thought I had lost you." She said, clenching onto me. 

"No... impossible, love." I whispered, biting my lip to stifle my own tears. "You'll never have to worry about the Thalmor again." I said, stroking her hair. "Your new guard is marching from Windhelm and I burned your Dossier." 

"I don't care about any of that." She sobbed, clutching my back desperately. "You're safe. I love you. You're safe." She assured herself, blubbering the words like a child. "I love you, Niren. Never leave me again." She clung onto me with such a force, she held directly onto my heart, pulling and strumming with her words. The raw emotion she emitted caused me to pause. 

"I love you too, Herlaith. I could never leave you." I kissed her deeply, supporting her weight with one arm, and wiping her tears away with the other. I sat her down in the throne. "But now you are the Jarl and you need to be the Jarl right now." I fixed her hair and wiped her tears away, kissing her forehead. "Are you... you know... okay?"

"It was only three. Nothing you haven't been through. I can do this." 

"Three... if only I had come back sooner." I cringed. "Why didn't you kill them?"

"I killed two of them... Ondolemar held me down after that and..." She stopped talking. "I need you later... but for now... I need you here." She reached for my hand and gripped it, in her trembling palms. 

"I'll always be here when you need me. I swear on my blood." I kissed her hand, smiling reassuringly at her. She finally smiled and sighed, leaning back against the throne, as if a weight had been removed from her shoulders. It was almost surreal. This former whore and heart breaker, sadistic lover, and bitchy leader was hardly herself. I wondered how long it would be for her to return to normal. 

 


	21. Fire and Wind

Herlaith took six moons to return to her normal self, and even there, she would wake me up with nightmares and ask e to hold her. Of course, each and every time I would comply. But slowly, she was forgetting what happened. 

Krassus had warmed up to me as well, and was becoming rather much of a Beta. When we hunted together, he would howl, and a passing by Child would answer and join us and have no quarrel with being beneath him. I presumed, at least, I hoped, that it was my influence making him so. 

Life was okay for a while, I'd even dare to say 'good'. Then the bosmer Mercenary returned. 

"Ah, hello there, housecarl." She sauntered inside the throne room and spoke to me only when I had stepped in front of her. "Nice to see another elf in these parts." She smirked, eyebrows raising expectantly. "Not many Altmer around now days. Most are being... slaughtered. Viciously."

"They are." I said indifferently. I did not take the bait the bosmer was dangling in front of me. "Why are you here? You had no audience with my Jarl."

"Ooh, struck a nerve, mm? Apologies, Thalmor." She bowed, waving her hand in circles. "Shall I grovel for one?" I felt a growl escape me and she looked up again, grinning. 

"Keep your distance from her, s'wit." I grit my teeth now. She tilted her head, her short and wild hair falling to one shoulder. It wasn't long before I noticed her eyes. Strikingly black. She flashed a white smile at me then knelt at Herlaith's feet, taking her hand an planting a kiss on it. Herlaith withdrew it and watched her. I could tell she was a bit flustered. Something inside of me flared. 

"Elrene Nightgrove. I didn't know you were still alive." the Jarl acknowledged her. 

"Oh,  _very alive_." She reassured Herlaith, grinning. "I've helped your people. I've helped you. I even got rid of your little Dark Brotherhood issue." Elrene's voice was rough and gravelly and yet, she held a presence about her that unnerved me to my very core, despite her having none of the qualities that did that previously. She wasn't a werewolf or werebear, so it wasn't that. She didn't smell like a vampire. She didn't smell any way.  _She didn't smell like bosmer, or mer at all. She smelled like Daedra._

"You're..." I interupted, looking to Reburrus and shutting my mouth. But the elf saw. She turned her head, locked eyes and vigorously nodded. 

"You've done well." Herlaith eyed me suspiciously and continued business. "I will appoint you the status of Thane. My Thanes are much different than other's. I will call on you for business often. Since you seem to exercise excellent discretion, you will be utilized often." She looked over to Reburrus who sighed and got up from his seat, going to fetch something. He returned with a silver ring depicting a goat. The bosmer gingerly slipped it on her finger, grinning at me. 

"Deal." She nodded to Herlaith. "Well, I'll be in the whatever-you-call-it Hall with what's his name." She waved, skipping off, down the stairs and flying out of the doors. I cursed.

"Reburrus, leave us again." Herlaith shooed him off then physically tured on her throne to fix me with a stare. "What the fuck, Niren? Why are you being so rude to her?"

"She smells..." I thought for a moment. "She smells like Clavicus Vile."

"And what do you know of Clavicus Vile?" She seemed amused. "Can you smell all of them separately or is this what I think it is?" 

"It's.." I fumbled, trying not to say it, but she would have the truth. "It's what you think it is." I muttered it, blushing like a maid. 

"Hircine's daughter had sex with Clavicus Vile?" She reiterated, grinning wickedly. I huffed.

"No... yes... we never mated. I've never mated with anyone but you, Herlaith, you know that." I said desperately. 

"Why are you so concerned about that?" She tilted her head against her throne and watched me.

"Werewolves mate for life, Herlaith. You're not my lover, you're my mate." I averted my eyes. Her stare was a cold as Skyrim herself and seemed to heat my core. 

"Oh," was all she said about that. "So, she smells like Clavicus Vile, what of it?"

"You mess around with more Daedra than I do, Herlaith." I shook my head. "You shouldn't. It never ends well. Especially not with Vile. I'll back that up. I ended up in the Thalmor, for fuck's sake!" 

"And that led you to me." She said coyly, cocking her head towards me.

"It also got you raped."

"And then you fucked me like you never had before." She said without missing a beat. 

"I-I... Herlaith, you filthy Nord." I couldn't stop the grin from forming on my face. 

"Damn fine elf." She leaned over the arm of her throne and kissed me. Her lips were soft and demanding all at once. I leaned into it as her hands found my hair. She sat back and yanked me forward, lips crashing into mine again. When she finally let me go, we were both gasping for air. "I am feeling suddenly ill. I would have you take me to the bedroom at once." I picked her up on demand, walking out of the throne room. She buried her face into my shoulder, linking her arms around my neck.

"Jarl's sick. She'll be better tomorrow. Don't send anyone in." I gave Reburrus the brief before running to our room. I set her down and noticed we were both fumbling and bumping and grinning like teenagers. I threw her on the bed and crawled on top of her, making quick work of her clothes and smalls and sat back. It had been too long since I really just  _admired_ her. 

She was smirking up at me triumphantly. I crawled on the bed next to her, running my hand down her face and neck. The soft skin turned gooseflesh under my fingertips. She shivered and heat rose to her full cheeks. I forced myself to slow down. But that wasn't helping much. The wolf in me was clawing at me to claim her. I ran my hands over her breasts almost desperately before quickly stripping myself and crawling on top of her and straddling her hips. I reached down and kissed her tenderly, but she grabbed my long black hair and forced me to switch places with her. I smirked up at her. At the challenge that was Herlaith.

"Down, dog." She said, nipping at the flesh on my neck. I gasped as her nips trailed down to my thighs. I bit my lip with future regret and grabbed her, flipping her on her back.

"No, Herlaith. I'm on top." I growled, canines slightly sharper, and eyes slightly more gold. I saw her eyes widen when she noticed and I could almost smell her submission just then. She knew the wolf was emerging and fear edged along with her arousal. My claws had dug into her arm and my teeth were leaving marks on her neck. "You smell so sweet when you're afraid." My voice grew dense without my knowledge. I heard her whimper.

"Niren..?" She looked up at me like a deer and I licked my lips unwittingly. I quickly claimed hers, biting. She struggled a bit but I held her down. My claws dug into her wrists and my eyes trailed down to her neck where I buried my face, biting and licking. "Niren," She said again, but it sounded too much like she was underwater for me to notice. I continued to bite at her, this time on her breasts. That is, until a sharp pain across my cheek brought me back to the present. I blinked and sat up, holding my cheek.

"Ow." I stared at Herlaith, who had the look of a scolding parent on her face, which soon broke into a grin. 

"I can't trust you to be on top, apparently." She flipped me onto my back once again, pinning me and tying my hands to the headboard with my own belt. I growled, struggling against the binds, but my claws were gone. She had me trained well. Herlaith was over me once again, this time, her core was just above my face. She was teasing me.  "Well, dog? You know what to do." I looked up to her again before my tongue flicked out to meet her folds. She gasped in response and I did it again. Two could play this game. I let my lips find her nub and I sucked, just enough to tease. 

" _Niren._ " She let out a shakey breath, knotting her hands in my hair and pulling my face closer. She gasped again as I continued, and just as she was getting ready to orgasm I stopped and grinned devilishly. She moved off of me, glaring. "You bitch."

"Mmh." I hummed, licking my lips and keeping eye contact with her. She looked absolutely disheveled. Her hair was a mess, out of its normal braid, her eyes were dilated and heavy with need. She watched me for a moment before a decision reflected in her eyes. She straddled my hips, giving me a full view of her as she arched her back and trailed her soft hands over her breasts and down her sides. Herlaith let her eyes flutter then she shut them tightly as one hand drifted up to her breast again, the other rested against her mound. Her fingers brushed over and tweaked her nipple, pulling and teasing. 

"Niren." She breathed, hand finding her sex and probing two fingers inside. She was wet and each movement made the faintest sound. I pulled against my restraints and her eyes opened, immediately meeting mine. She held them there, still moving her fingers and moaning. Her face was flushed, and that rosy color crept all over her body as she bit her red lip. She threw her head back, grinding her hips against her hand and quickening her own pace. I growled, trying to claw my way out of the binds. She let out another moan, reaching her release with a sigh and tensing up. After a few moments she sprawled out on me, kissing my neck sleepily. She just barely had the energy, but she reached up and pulled at my binds until they loosened. I tugged my hands out of them and considered throwing her into another round.

I sighed and slid down into the covers, pulling them over her. 

"You're trouble, Herlaith Silver-Blood." I wrapped my arm around her, using the other as a pillow beneath my head. She pressed her back into me and I buried my face in her blonde hair. 

"So I'm told." She mumbled. 

"Letter from Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak." The door was thrown open by a yelling courier. Herlaith jolted.

"Ever heard of knocking you cur?" I growled, getting up and snatching the folded parchment from the now blushing boy. He looked no older than 15. "I suppose you're waiting for payment." I sighed, reaching into a trunk and pulling out a bag of coins. I tossed it to him and shooed him away, plopping down on the bed. I opened the letter and cleared my throat, glancing down at the grinning Herlaith. I squared my shoulders and made the haughtiest deep voice I could.

"Jarl Herlaith Silver-Blood, it is with a heavy heart that I ..." I trailed off, voice returning to normal and Herlaith's giggle ceasing. "that I inform you of the death of your father. I request your presence in Windhelm within six days to bury your father." It was signed my Ulfric and stamped with the sign of Windhelm. I glanced up at Herlaith, expecting tears, or shock, but not a grin. 

"I knew it was him sending those assassins. Fetch Sapphire." She motioned towards the door. I groaned but pulled on clothes and made my way out of the room, buckling my belt before making eye contact with one of the guards. Shit. 

"Say a word and I'll have you killed." I promised and he turned rigid, quickly looking away. I passed him and made my way to the former ruins, current thief headquarters. I nodded to one of the thieves that stood outside, as a guard. I pushed open the door and was immediately hit by the scent of mead, burning wood and skooma. I grinned and walked towards a table where Sapphire sat. I sat in the chair across from her. She looked up from the book she was reading. She sighed and shut it.

"What's the Jarl's bitch doing in here?" She tried to sound irritated, but she was rather indifferent. 

"The Jarl requests you, I believe she has a job for you. She asked for you specifically." I stood and waited for her to follow. We made our way to the lonely palace and to Herlaith's bedroom. She hadn't bothered to get dressed, but did cover herself with sheets. 

"It's been too long." Sapphire approached her, immediately hugging her then pulling the wooden chair from the desk and to the bed. She crossed her legs and leaned forward. "So what's this work?"

"I'm sure you're aware of the new Thane, mm?" Herlaith reached for a box on the nightstand, pulling a bottle of concentrated Skooma and two pipes out. Sapphire eyed it nervously but accepted one. "I want all the information you have on her. She's proving a thorn in my side. Poking her nose in places its not quite supposed to be." She poured a few drops of Skooma in a hole in the top of the pipe and heating the bottom of it with a small flame from her finger. She reached over and heated Sapphires then took a long drag off of it. "I will be in Windhelm, so I'll need it delivered there." 

Sapphire was hesitant but copied Herlaith's actions, closing her eyes as the drug spread through her. I sighed, knowing I would be the one to have to walk her home. From her reactions, she'd never done drugs before or she'd been sober for a very long time. As soon as Herlaith shut her eyes in her own high, I gently wrapped my fingers around the pipe in Sapphire's hand and took it. She looked up at me thankfully and I shook my head, placing it on the nightstand and nodding towards the door. She stood up and stumbled. I grabbed her arm, balancing her. She sighed and thanked me quietly. I glanced over at Herlaith, who was staring up at the ceiling, looking gone and brain dead. I stared a moment too long before guiding Sapphire back to her guild. 

I returned the next morning, to find Herlaith on the throne, perfectly healthy, perfectly sober. 

"What of Windhelm?" I asked her when I had returned.

"Windhelm we will head for, this afternoon. That of Windhelm." She looked smug and snark. I rolled my eyes and joined by her side. My hand flashed purple and I set it on her leg. She smiled up at me and kissed me on the cheek. Despite her smile, my stomach knotted itself with anxiety. I shut my eyes and quelled the feeling, opening them and placing my hand on the hilt of my sword. 


	22. To Sovngarde with that Asshole

"You're on time." I heard Galmar grin and say with surprise. I rolled my eyes and held out my arms for a hug. While Altmer customs of greeting were a slight nod, smile, and word,  Nord customs insisted on at least one tight embrace. I had nearly become a Nord, for all the time I was spending around them. 

"And you bathed." I smirked and wrapped my arms around the slightly shorter man's shoulders. He patted my back like a war buddy. Technicially, that was what we were, but 'buddy' was a complicated term. 

"Aye, that I did." He snorted and glanced back at Herlaith. "Welcome, Jarl." 

"Don't be so formal." She shook her head. "I get enough of that. Now, I'm here about my father. I'd like to see Ulfric about this." 

"That can be done." He nodded. "He's in the war room. Come." He motioned for us to follow and he headed towards the small room. Yrsarald was notably absent. I looked around. "He's in the trainin' yard now days, with that little urchin kid. Training her to fight I guess." He spoke when he noticed my confusion. "She's a good fighter." He laughed and pointed to a scar on his knee. "Short, but quick." 

"We're not gathered to talk of orphans, Galmar." Ulfric said slowly. He was leaned over the table, which, for once was covered with papers instead of a map and flags. "Herlaith, I'm sorry that we have to gather in such a bad time for you." He looked up at her, face red from crying. 

"Are you alright, my Jarl?" She said, approaching the table.

"He was a close friend." Ulfric sighed and glanced at the door. As if reading his mind, I shut it and locked it. He nodded a thanks and looked back at Herlaith. "But he was your father, the question is are  _you alright_?" 

"Quite alright, I assure you. My father always taught me not to mourn for him when he passed. Since he was almost always in danger." She mused, crossing her arms. "I do respect his wishes, but I do miss him." She lied smoothly. "What have you done with the body?"

"For now, he waits in the Hall of the Dead. I assumed you would want to see him before we burn him." He muttered grimly. 

"Burn him?" Herlaith gaped, now leaning on the table as well. "You are going to burn my father?!"

"There's a necromancer in the North." Ulfric looked through the papers and pulled out a charcoal sketch of Matak. "Some say he's the Mist of Falkreath. Some say he's Malacath's son."

"Hm. So he's a necromancer? Where in the North?" She schooled her expression and gave him nothing. He was watching her carefully.

"Winterhold, Dawnstar, Here. He's been seen travelling to Markarth. That is why we must lay your father to rest quickly. I would not like to have you gone for long from your hold. You may have to defend it from him." 

"I see." She grimaced and winced. "Well, then let's see to my father, hm? I will let you burn him... despite how... elvish a tradition that is." She said carefully, realizing I was still an elf. It seems that my sweet Herlaith was still a Nord, through and through. 

"A good one, that is." Ulfric nodded towards me. "I realize that now. Burning the dead insures their passing completely." I almost smirked at his recognition. He smiled at me and I hesitated then. Did he say that just to get on my good side? If so, why? I pondered it for far too long, missing out on the rest of the conversation.

"Niren." Galmar shook my shoulder. I hit his hand away and glared at him.

"What? Why did you touch me?" I said harshly, coming across as far too Thalmor for being surrounded by Stormcloaks. Luckily, the Nord only laughed. 

"It's dark. You've been standing here for two hours without moving. It's time for the ceremony." Galmar said with a grin and put his arm around me. "Herlaith and Ulfric are already at the burial site. C'mon, elf, keep up." I swatted his arm away, following him outside of the city. We had travelled up a large mountain by only moonlight. 

The burial pyre was at least the height of a proper building, and just wide enough to hold his body. It was made of white, dry wood. Wood that would burn easily when lit. 

"We gather to send Thongvor Silver-Blood, former patron of the Silver-Blood family, and Honored Stormcloak to Sovngarde this night!" Ulfric stood in front of us, and a group that had formed behind us. It was about 40 people. "I remember him from my days in the Imperial Army. He saved my life more times than I'd like to admit," at this, some in the crowd laughed briefly at Ulfric's self-deprecating humor. "His daughter is here today, as Jarl of Markarth and most influential soldier I'd ever commanded." He swept his arm towards Herlaith and she stood tall, nodding her acknowledgement and approaching by his side.

"My father was a True Nord," She spoke up so that the crowd could hear her. Her eyes were watering, but never a tear fell. "He was a son of the snow, and a warrior of the ice!" Her nordic accent grew ever thicker as she yelled above the wind. "A true son of Skyrim." Her orator's skills were just as honed as Ulfric's. She took a deep breath as if she got choked. She glanced back to her father's still form. "Now Sovngarde welcomes another great man into her embrace! This night he dines with Talos and Ysgramor!" She took another deep breath and turned around when Ulfric nodded at her to light the pyre. She took the torch from a foot soldier and approached it, whispering words lost in the wind. 

Herlaith held the torch to the wood and placed it against the bottom of the pyre, stepping back to Ulfric's side. We stayed there for quite a while, watching the embers fly into the sky. At some point, she joined my side and held my nearly frost-bitten hand. Snow began to fall, but did nothing to quell the Arcane fueled fire that 'sent Thongvor to Sovngarde'. I stared at her.

Her eyes were lit with the fires and her own determination and hatred. Her lips reflected the light faintly. Her soft skin seemed to absorb the light and radiate it back at the fire. Her dark lashes moved ever so slightly as she glanced about. They were dark as ashes. Her sharp blue eyes shot at my and brought another shiver through me. She smiled, just a hint of teeth with it. Herlaith leaned against my side. She planted a kiss on my cheek and watched the flames dance and spin in the sky. 

I will never feel worse for the thought I had, but I swear, that was the most romantic moment in my life. Despite being her father's funeral, she was nearly plastered at my side, illuminated by the pale glow of the moons and the harsh dancing of the orange flame. And by my Father, did her hand feel amazing tangled up in mine. I frowned immediately at the thought. Imperials often said that funerals reminded them of their mortality. It seemed it was reminding me of Herlaith's mortality. I sighed deeply at the thought and looked down at her. Her blonde hair had not been in its usual braid, but flowed freely down her shoulders, like rolling snow. The fire had all but died out as the sun rose and we got on a carriage to return to Markarth, the quickest route possible. Ulfric had hoped we would catch the necromancer. 

It was a long ride back to Markarth, shortest route or not. Because absolutely. Nothing. In Oblivion. Fucking Happened. If there was anything that set my teeth on edge, more than vampires and Stendarr's cult, it was waiting patiently. In Father's Hunting Ground--fuck--in ANY of the realms of Oblivion,  _something_ was usually happening. In Azura's realm, there were celebrations and creation and festivals. In Boethiah's realm, there was always a fight, a competition, a slaughter to attend. In Sanguine's, there was drinking and running and being stupid. In Mephala's, there were sex and stories. But on that damnable road? Not even a damn fox was near. I was considering shifting, just to get us back to Markarth faster, and maybe slay the mundanely talkative carriage driver. 

It took two damn days to get to Markarth. As soon as we were there, I smelled Matak, but still escorted Herlaith to her throne and found myself at the house where the new Thane stayed. I noted with a bit of amusement how she scratched out the original name of the manor and wrote "Elrene's Hollow" above it in paint. I snorted and shook my head, almost running myself through on Argis's drawn sword. I parried it quickly with the dagger I kept in my sleeve. 

"Oh, it's you." Argis said from behind his helmet. I stared, not sure what to say.

"You got armor." I nodded blankly.

"Aye. Elrene didn't like my old armor, so she made me this Ebony armor. And sword." He nodded and took off his helmet, letting his rusted brown hair fall from it. He shook it loose and replaced his sword in its sheath. 

"She home?"

"Alas, she is." He grinned and motioned me in. I walked in, sniffing and following the scent of Vile. I sat down in the chair across from her and waited for her to look up from her book. 

"Clavicus Vile." I said after about three minutes of waiting. Her head shot up, wide eyed. She shut the book and shifted in her seat.

"What of it?" She said, leaving all insults to me behind. I smirked at that.

"You've bedded him. I smell it on you. What exactly are you doing here?" I leaned forward, glaring. She seemed to back up.

"I sense a deal. Truly, a good one. One to rival Vile's work in the past decades, surely." She grinned, showing her sharpened teeth. She brushed her hair back. "And I have. I'm his wife, why wouldn't I bed him?" 

I stared at the bosmer for a moment, trying to see if she was telling the truth or not. I sniffed. She laughed.

"Hircine's, then? Is that what this is about? A cock fight?" 

"No. This is about me protecting my mate. From you. And him." I gritted out.

"Rest assured, I do nothing without being asked." She held her hands up, smiling benevolently. I cursed inwardly. She looked far too convincing, but I knew her, I knew Vile.

"Leave Skyrim, and do not return." I said harshly.

"Are you asking or... bartering?" She crossed her legs, sitting back, almost mockingly professional. 

"Get out of Skyrim."

"What will you give me if I do? Hopefully nothing as mundane as your soul." She said and tilted her head. Argis sat nearby. I glanced and he seemed indifferent towards the whole situation. 

"What would you have?"

"Hm... how about your immortality and wolf?" She looked down at my throat. I scoffed then laughed.

"Fine. Don't leave Skyrim. But if I see you doing anything I deem dangerous towards Herlaith, I'll kill you." I promised. Argis looked back, shocked. "And I would not hesitate to kill you either, Argis." I nodded grimly, frowning. The words I said hurt me a bit so before anyone could notice, I turned on heel and left quickly. As I was shutting the door, I heard Elrene's laughter. She sounded just like Vile. 

I quickly paced to the palace, but was still bothered upon returning to Herlaith's side. She didn't even notice me, which certainly didn't help. I kept my hand tight on my sword, putting my complete focus onto anyone who entered the room. A messenger in Imperial armor from Solitude ran in, panting. Herlaith let out a stunned snort.

"You've certainly showed bravery or foolishness, coming to me in that armor. Do you know how many of your soldiers I've killed, Breton?" She said, looking down at him. He held out a message that Reburrus took and read over. The Breton man winced and lowered his head in respect, quietly pleading and telling her about the children he had in Solitude. "Calm down, Imperial soldier, I won't kill you, as I've no order to. Rise." She nodded as he rose to his feet. "What is the message?"

"Jarl Elisif requests soldiers from you. She said that she has asked Ulfric, but no reply has come. Much of her forces were under Thalmor rule, and have been mysteriously slaughtered." Reburrus said casually. Herlaith sat her head on her hand, contemplating. 

"How do you think Ulfric will react if I do send some of my own guard to assist her?" She asked him, eyeing the Breton who stood diligently, waiting for orders.

"I think he will take it as an act of treason. He might not, however, if you tell him your reasoning before he can do anything." He seemed to take on the same complicated look. 

"He's enough reason to be suspicious of me." She noted, furrowing her brow. "What if I send my Thane?" I almost flinched at the mention. 

"Perhaps your Thane would be a good choice. She's a guard force all her own, but would she agree to it?"

"You've a point... I need to think on this." She looked over at me then the Breton. "Approach me." She commanded and he did so, paling. "Deliver word to Ulfric Stormcloak." She said slowly and carefully. "I want you to tell him that I am bargaining with Jarl Elisif the Fair and am actively trying to influence her political stance." He nodded and left. 

"Clever." Reburrus noted, grinning for once. "Nothing at all like your father."

"Good." She sighed. "Just between us, I don't plan on trying to change her mind." She rubbed her temples. "But I fully understand her position."  


End file.
